Minors
by KagekenYomi
Summary: Story has elemental control, teenagers, messed up paths, action scenes, a different worldchars, overtaking power, death, and more. To see a story blurb see my profile xDD, and Read and Review please, it'll be much appreciated. I need opinions so badly x.x
1. Chapter 1

The dim and darkened corridors were silent. The walls were orange and stretches of shade crept up the ceiling. The dark halls were depressing, grim and life drained by the dark. But along a certain hall, there was light.

There came a wide opening that gave a silent hum and orange light. A strange man in a shady white garment jumped out from the portal that clung to that left wall, and he sprung off the right. Only a few seconds after did the roaring beasts enter. The millions of purple tentacles springing from the portal came after the cloaked man and collided with the right wall, missing him by a few feet as the mysterious being attempted to turn the corner down the long hallway. The tentacles followed and threw themselves down the way and slammed with a sickening crash against the wall. That had to make a dent. A big one.

"Point of View Switch"

I was just walking around the dimension labyrinth when I heard that sudden crash. I felt a strong vibration that shook the whole hall as I struggled to keep balance. What was that? I thought. Probably one of the main backups failing again. The backups were the twelve different engines that held the dimension together. If even one of them failed, we could be in serious danger.

I ran towards the direction I thought the sound came from. I didn't know what I could do, being just 10 years old, but I had to know. If something was up, I had to warn the Council.

I continued my pace down the corridor. What would I find? I was scared. My run quickened into a rush as my heart felt like it was about to implode.

But when I turned the next corner, I knew for sure it wasn't the backups that caused the sudden noise

I stared in awe and shock as wild tentacles swung about the way, angry with fury and crazy with the absence of self control. They slowly crept back into a mysterious portal and disappeared from sight.

At the incident, I had to force a lump down my throat. I knew what I had just seen. The "Judgment", the great demon that the Council used to defend the dimension from any trespassers, and seeing it actually in the dimension could only mean one thing: It failed it's purpose.

_What's going on?_ A voice rang in my head, taking me by surprise. I knew almost immediately after my shock who's voice it was. The voice of Kawasabi Minoa was too, worried about the sudden noise. I started to reply to her with my thoughts.

_I don't know but _– my thought was cut off. As the portal disappeared that let the Judgment in, I saw the huge dent in the wall all the way down the corridor. It was as wide as the top to bottom of the hallway. Cracks covered the concave area of the circular hole in the wall. Bits and crannies of the wall were falling off of it like little crumbs off of a piece of toast.

I took in a deep breath at the sight of such damage. I knew the Judgment was powerful, but not this powerful. _What? What's going on? What happened?_ Minoa broke me away from my thoughts with her telepathy again. Minoa was one of the Council members. The Council was a team of the 12 strongest and most powerful people in the known world. They were gifted with eternal life and control over different elements, and grouped together to knock some sense in the world. Minoa was the master of the Mind Element. She could use telekinesis, telepathy and so much more. Not to mention her high IQ.

_Nothing, It's just, okay here's what happened_ – I began to tell her. _The Judgment let someone in. There's a whole dent of proof on the corner of fate hall. The Judgment's tentacles failed when they crashed into the wall, missed the intruder, and returned to it's place. _For a while, Minoa didn't reply. Obviously because of shock. She probably was thinking of a plan.

_Okay, this is what you do._ Her voice began again, resuming from her long pause. The moments she had made me wait increased my heart rate little by little. I knew it, I thought. She made a plan within a matter of seconds. She really is amazing. _Try to follow the path that you think the person followed as best as you can. If you need more help, then just contact me; I need more time to think about this and discuss it with the rest of the Council. Be safe, you don't know who might have sneaked in. This person obviously has great power if this person could've broken into our dimension and passed the Judgment. Good luck… _

I gulped. Was she trying to make me scared? No matter. I had to do what Minoa said anyway. I ran past the large dent, swallowing another lump in my throat before it could form. I was afraid of what I might find, but I had to find out, for the safety of the Council. I may be just their trainee because they say I'm "gifted" but they believe I could make a difference. So it's about time I made one. I held back a strand of my long, metro hair to allow full sight. I continued down the hall and kept making rights and lefts. I was sure I had been wandering around for 5 minutes until something caught my attention. A glowing light, it seemed. Down Fate Hall, the longest hall in the dimension, came a faint glowing light. It was multicolored and unusual, so I decided to check it out.

Starting with small steps, I walked toward the light. I tried squinting but I couldn't see anything past it. I took in a deep breath and told myself I could do this. I had to do this. I had to prove myself that I won't be a failure. With a burst of confidence, I ran off towards the shining light.

"Point of View Switch"

As Minoa's eyes opened and revealed her pale marble eyes, she posed a serious expression on her face. "What's wrong?" Hibiyomi asked. As he spoke his words, Minoa sensed shifting amongst the room. The stuffy place they were in had the whole Council in it. They would always remain this quiet when something serious was going on, and since it had been a long time since that last happened, things were more ominous now. "You do know that, if it really is what we think…" Hibiyomi started again, his eyes narrowing upon the darkness.

"If it really is what we expect, then we all have to prepare to be ready and go all out, got it?!" Minoa said strictly a little more than she meant. She clenched her fist. It started to shake in her grip. She couldn't believe it if it was really true. Why, why now? She thought. Why? As her own fear went against her words, she knew that the others were feeling the same.

"Point of View Switch"

The light seemed to die out as I progressed through it. It seemed like I was walking through a cloud of bright white, the hallway around me not dark anymore, but pale white with over illuminated surroundings. The light finally died down, and seemed to crawl back through a door that led to small room, labeled "LIBRARY" What could be going on? I thought. I took caution as I peeked into the room. I couldn't see much but I saw a cloaked man with his back to me, and a small ball of light on a scroll seemed to be right in front of him. I turned back to the side of the door, with my back against the wall. I swallowed hard and tried to contact Minoa

_Minoa, are you there? I found the person who broke in, now what? _I told her, focusing as hard as I could.

_What? _She sounded surprised. I probably shocked her with my sudden message like she did to me earlier. _Can you describe him the person to us? _Her reply choked.

_He's wearing this white garment over his body with a hood, about average height and a scroll in front of him. _

I could tell she was shocked yet again. _All right, I'll get Hibiyomi and Tsukansu over. Don't do anything without authority, got it? You could be in great danger right now…_

I swallowed my third lump. I had to wait… with this stranger in the next room? No way! Why was I so afraid all the time? I hated this quality about me… how can I get over this? How?! I followed instructions and waited… It felt like it was the longest wait I had ever had to experience.

About who knows how long later I noticed the shadows moving in a strange pattern on the floor, fluttering its wild silhouette n the floor. First I only saw a dark blank being rise from the floor in the shape of a human, but soon the details slowly came in all at once. I watched fearfully as the shadows shifted and an uprising figure revealed himself. It had the face of Hibiyomi, who always had his identity hidden in a shadowy mask. Or was it an overall armor? No one could tell. Only he knew.

Hibiyomi was the master of shadow element, and obviously arrived first because of his shadow transportation. His eyes opened slowly, and gave the serious look he always did. He never talked much, always hid behind his human shaped shield, his real face never seen. Only his pointy oval eyes with large, gray pupils revealed most of his emotions, and almost all the time, it was a serious, mean one.

He gave a small glance to me as he walked slowly by and to the door. It didn't seem much like it, but I was thinking that he was walking so slow because he was nervous, and what could Hibiyomi be nervous about? I thought. He was strong, independent, and goodhearted. He had two of the three things I needed

Hibiyomi took one peek into the room, and turned back out. His eyes showed surprise and a bit of anger. I thought he was about to go berserk. But he calmed down, and closed his eyes. It seemed like he was in complete focus, and in a moment, he disappeared. His body slowly dissolved into wisps of black smoke he left behind after he was totally gone, and I turned my attention to inside of the room.

The cloaked man was still in the same position as I had seen him before. It's like he's frozen, I thought. What could he be doing? What was that light and that scroll? I saw Hibiyomi come out from the shadows of the corners of the room. I was surprised that I could see anything with the dimmed light of this whole place.

"It's over, White Cloak." Hibiyomi said steadily. He clasped his hands together, and in a instant, large whips of shadow crashed from below the ground and whipped around the room wildly. They threw themselves at this apparently "White Cloak" person, but something blocked them. I couldn't see what it was, but it was powerful. It even shook the air in the room with a _snap_!

"Die!" I heard Hibiyomi yell. I've never seen him so angry. He looked completely frustrated even though he had just begun fighting. I couldn't help but wonder: Did this White Cloak person have to do something with Hibiyomi, or even the whole council? Just who was this person?

He clasped his hands together loudly yet again, and more raging whips emerged to attack the cloaked man. White Cloak remained stationary, he didn't even move. And all of Hibiyomi's attacks were being blocked by this invisible, spherical force, surrounding him like he was the air in a ball. Was it some outside power helping White Cloak out, or was he actually causing these shields? I've never ever seen Hibiyomi's attacks been blocked, I realized.

An instant later came blades of black coming from the shadows, protruding from the ground like two feet pillars, attacking White Cloak from the front, but it was too, deflected off to the side. Just what was going on? I stared in amazement and hope as a blanket of shadows completely engulfed White Cloak's defense, but it was also deflected just like every other attack, and this time with a huge blow. I had to cover my eyes to protect myself from the flying dark energy and hold on to the doorway to stop myself from being blown away. The huge wind didn't seem to affect Hibiyomi's position.

"I have to… I have to stop him!" Hibiyomi said confidently, his anger pouring out like a spilled bottle of water. Hibiyomi kept up with the shadow attacks, and they all kept failing, being deflected in every which-a-way.

I stared closer as I saw a blue light on the faint white light that was still there on the open scroll, which was also stationary in the air in front of White Cloak. It seemed like he was drawing some kind of pattern of circles in it with many combinations that took him so long to draw. With every stroke and streak he made with his fingers on the middle of the scroll, it shone brightly like a neon light in the mid-winter. Seeing the whole scene of Hibiyomi desperately trying to get through his shield, and the glowing fingers of the mysterious White Cloak as he drew with light on the scroll made me worry. If Hibiyomi couldn't beat this guy, who would?

I could've sworn that a second later, I heard a rushing behind me. It sounded so different than what you would usually hear in this dimension. Something I couldn't put my finger on it, but I think it sounded something like… the ocean. I turned around quickly to find a large, rushing tide of water crashing down the hall and towards my direction. The vicious waves tore through the hall, flowing the entire way with its wet, soppy steps. On top of the largest wave was a figure toppled on top of it. He was standing right on top!

The figure was riding the waves, his arms perched back, his position head first. His hair swinging with the air like a crazy bird's wing. He rode the waves closer and closer, and I knew who it was in an instant. It was the Water Council, Tsukansu, just like Minoa had promised As he came closer to us, I wondered why his water took so long compared to Hibiyomi's shadows. My thoughts were disturbed as I was blown away by a huge wave the size of the whole hallway. I grappled on to the side of the door as I was pushed by the forceful waves, holding on to dear life. The water soon dried away, and in a matter of seconds I found Tsukansu right in front of me.

"Sorry I'm late, Jeremy-san," he said with a smile, staring at me with his old, wise eyes. He gave a pat on my head like he always would do, and I hated it just like I always had. His eyes glinted with the unseen light of the hall. Tsukansu was a fairly nice and communicative person. He had a big thing of hair, shaped like a downward triangle, going down the right side of his face, as lengthy up to his shoulder. His brown, graceful hair was natural, and his brown, sad eyes made you remember the face of a pet shih tzu. I stared back at him nervously as he kept his stare for about 30 seconds or so, until finally:

"Tsukansu!" Hibiyomi shouted from the room. "We've got some major trouble…"

"You mean-!" Tsukansu didn't finish his thought. His happy stare and smile turned to an expression of seriousness and anxiety. He rushed into the room in a hurry, his Council Robes fluttering by. "Can't be!" he shouted from inside, leaving me behind in the hallway. So White Cloak was that serious to change Tsukansu's emotions so quickly? Just who was this guy? These thoughts piqued my interest as I turned my eyes back to the room, careful of not to expose my whole body into the doorway.

"Get ready. You know what to do." Hibiyomi told Tsukansu, turning his head back to Tsukansu and narrowing his eyes at him.

"Right," Tsukansu replied, disappearing with lightning speed, jumping at least 10 feet into the air. The room was only so small and dark, it was hard for me to observe most of what they did. But here's what I could make out:

Tsukansu jumped in the air, inhaling a big whiff of air, his head holding back and chest expanding. When he exhaled, a big blast of pressurized water came streaming out of his mouth, his cheeks full with the liquid. He leaned his head forward into the attack as his hair fluttered like a drunken wing, and the stream of water was being deflected in all directions by the invisible spherical shield. The hit was so big that it almost covered the whole area of the shield. The friction of the water against the shield made a rushing sound that you would usually hear when you went to the beach and listened to the quiet pace of the ocean, but a much rushed pattern than that of the peaceful sea.

Water was flying all over the room, and the duration of this attack was about 10 seconds or so. When he finished, he fell back down on the floor, landing on his feet with a powerful click of his shoes. I was totally amazed. At that moment, I wished I could do something amazing like that. But I can't. Sure, the Council had told me that I had special powers undiscovered and took me in, but I don't really believe them right now. They are my close friends, but in the five years we've been together I've never noticed any signs of "special powers" like Tsukansu's Water Streams or Hibiyomi's Black Blades.

At the same time Tsukansu landed his feet on the floor, Hibiyomi suddenly appeared behind White Cloak with blinding speed, who was still drawing the damned circle. Hibiyomi held a thin and long blade of shadow protruding from his long Council Robe sleeve. He sliced and spun, twisted and tightened the attack. The blade kept swinging in all directions as bits of shadow energy was being deflected off the shield. Hibiyomi's figure was spinning around in it's position, and changing positions frequently as well. He finally gave what looked like the final blow and struck right through the shield, and thankfully it made it through. The blade cracked through the force field and right through White Cloak's back and chest. Blood started spreading through the White garment, and Hibiyomi, Tsukansu, and I stared in amazement as we waited to see what happened next…


	2. Chapter 2

The blood continued to pool on White Cloak's garments. I felt scared. What would happen? Did they finally beat White Cloak's defenses and stopped him from drawing that circle? What was so bad about him and that scroll he was drawing on? So many questions ran about in my mind, and not one of them was close to being answered.

The room was dark and still as always. Tsukansu stayed in his position, ready to shift at any moment. His eyes were wild with readiness. His brown hair fluttered softly at the energy he was giving off. His expression tightened, and his Blue Garments were fluttering just like his hair. It was like gravity was defied on his body. His stare turned neon blue as well. You could sense the great amount of energy surrounding him. He's amazing, I thought with awe, staring at his normal small, brown eyes glow brightly with blue.

Hibiyomi still had his shadow blade struck through White Cloak, who wasn't moving at all. There was total silence and suspense for a long moment. All three of us were waiting to see if White Cloak would fall in despair, or stand in confidence.

Finally, our cloaked guest shifted his feet. I stared harder in fear as he moved his limbs slowly as they returned back to normal speed. It was like he was never stabbed at all. He stumbled on his stance and resumed the drawing of the circles as a white, wispy energy began to surround him. Tsukansu's eyes glowed brighter and his robes and hair fluttered more noisily in reply. He narrowed his glare and clenched his teeth. His eyes threatened the growing white mist, saying "Bring it on."

"Jeremy, stay back. I don't want you getting… hurt. Even worse… dying," Tsukansu told me seriously through clenched teeth, his back turned away from me. I was sure that he was about to let out a load of energy and he was just dying to let it out.

I felt nervous and swallowed hard. Was this fight really that dangerous that Tsukansu needed to call upon this much power? I've never been in a life threatening situation before, I realized. I didn't know what to do. Should I follow Tsukansu's orders? I stared hard and blankly as the ghostly white mist continued to blanket around White Cloak like a protective fog. My sight soon became blocked, which made me more nervous about what was going to happen, and even more indecisive about what I were to do next.

Finally and suddenly, cutting the suspense was the sound of a large explosion. The ear-piercing POOM bounced off the walls and shook the whole hallway. It was the white mist that caused it. It had exploded from where White Cloak was standing and spread throughout the whole place and now was beginning to eat away the space of the room. But what really happened? The mysterious fog flooded from the entrance door. My back was supported by the walls next to it. I felt like it was the only thing that kept me standing. What happened? I wondered. Are Tsukansu and Hibiyomi all right? I took in a deep breath to calm myself down. I'm going in, I decided. I knew I'd be disobeying orders but I had to. I was going to venture into the white mist to find them. To find out what happened. I felt even more tense and nervous, but I just had to find out. I had to be strong this time.

I slowly walked into the room, my sight still covered by the thick, white cloud in the room. I could only see up to such a short distance. I didn't know where I was, despite the fact that it was a small room.

In the fogging air, I saw a strange light. The same kind of light I saw when I was back in the hallway beginning this whole event of my life. The light was being traced like a pencil, making circles and patterns. Then I realized – White Cloak was still making those patterns. Didn't Hibiyomi break the shield? Wouldn't they be stopping the process of the circle-drawing? Does that mean that they've… no. Of course not. Hibiyomi and Tsukansu were two of the greatest and most skilled people in the known world! There's no way they would lose.

I steered my path to the right as I felt my heart rate go off the charts. I felt scared of what could happen to me, but I tried not to think of that. There were more important things in the world than my own health. I took another step when- so suddenly – a huge arm made of shadow protruded from the mist and came racing towards me. I gasped at the sudden sight that took me by my whole body and thrusted me towards the exit of the room. We crashed into the wall opposite of the door. Chunks of plaster and clouds of dust flew everywhere and clouded my vision along with the pouring white mist coming from the room.

The sudden attack knocked the wind out of me. I was forced to breathe in a whole cloud of dust.

The grip of the shadow arm hadn't weakened yet. It covered my torso and most of my legs. To my surprise, this attack was Hibiyomi's specialty. That meant that he was safe. I was thankful for that. But what was the big idea? Why did he bring me out? I felt a whole wave of pain in my body; I wasn't sure if I could move my limbs anymore, causing me to have the inability to think straight.

After the dust cleared and the plaster stopped flying, I looked back into the room. It was still clouded with the white mist, which was still pouring out from the entrance. I was sure that the wall behind me had a huge hole in it. Then I could see something rise from it. A shape. A figure of a person coming towards me. I could only see the silhouette portrayed on the mist, but it soon became clear who it was. Hibiyomi.

The shadow arm was connected to his own, I could see. It was only a transformation of his regular arm. He came closer to me with his narrowed stare and bold gray eyes. I knew this wasn't a thought for the time, but I couldn't help but wonder: were those his real eyes? Or was it just part of his look? If it was a look? I had never seen any other form of Hibiyomi, after all. But it had been clearly notified to me that he was indeed human.

The shadow arm's length grew shorter and the width grew larger as he made more slow, steady steps towards me. He was finally about two feet away from me when he released the hold of the arm. I felt relief and freedom and tried to move my arm, and it turned and operated with success. Then I turned back to Hibiyomi and tried hard to find the friendliness in his eyes. He always had that mean look on, I wasn't even sure if he was going to help me at this point

He leaned over to me and said, "Jeremy-san." His stare was still narrowed as always. I took a big gulp of nervousness because of how near he was to me. He had never been so close.

"Y-Yes?" I managed to choke out in a shaky voice. I was utterly scared now.

"You shouldn't enter. It's best if you stay out of the room. Understand?" he told me clearly and seriously.

"Y-Yes. I understand," I said, still nervous. But for some reason, my heart stopped racing as much. I wondered why but couldn't find out why.

"I want you… to go get Minoa. Alert her of the current situation and tell her we need her help. Then, I want you to go back to the hall where you noticed the large dent in the wall caused by Judgment. Examine it for any clues. Understand?" he said, standing back up on his feet and turning his back to me.

He began to walk away but stopped and turned his head back at me. "Be careful," was all he said. Then he turned and began his pace back into the room. He soon disappeared into the thick mist, leaving me with another task.

I took in another deep breath and swallowed hard again. I stood up carefully, and brushed the dust off my clothes. Okay. The first thing I have to do is tell Minoa to come help them. Piece of cake. I tried to believe in myself and tried telling myself I could do this. I could, really. The Council trained me for five whole years. I can't show them that it's all gone to waste, now can I?

_Minoa-sama. Are you there? _I soon got a reply from her and told her all about the situation. She'd said she'd be there soon to help them and that I should go on to look for any clues back at the huge dent. I told her I would do so, and she wished me good luck. After our telepathic chat, I ran off back to the hall where I had seen the huge crack and the portal.

As I ran, I began thinking. Why did the Council take me as a trainee? They told me I had special powers of unknown origin. But how? I don't know of any special powers. The only thing I know how to do that others don't is how to communicate telepathically with Minoa. But that's only because she's trained me how to do it, and it would only work with her.

I turned the corner as I had another thought. Did they only take me in because they felt sorry for me? I was just an orphan lost in the middle of nowhere, when one day Minoa found me and befriended me. I had no home, no friends, nothing of my own. It was just me and my shadow all day long. I remember the hotness of the desert I was so lost in. I wondered why my life was the way it was. What was the purpose of me being alone? Who did it help? I never found the answer to these questions. But when I saw that shadow rise above me in the hot desert, looking down to me as I was lying hot and sick on the floor, being carried up and meeting Minoa and the Council, I didn't need the questions. I wasn't alone anymore. It's funny. Was our friendship really based on trust and love? Or was it just because of pity?

I soon came to the huge concave opening in the wall. I felt the ridges of the cracks in it; they were cragged and rough. It was amazing what the Judgment could do. Is that what the Council was trying to tell me, that I had the ability of a very strong power that could also cause this much damage? Was I, too, a demon only destined to serve others like the Judgment? Or are they talking about a different power? Something much more… important?

I took a look at the ground and began examining it. I almost tripped and fell over as I noticed something on the concrete floor. Dents on the surface. Probably not caused by Judgment, though, since if it had touched the ground at all, it would be a dent of much greater diameter. Maybe even bigger than the one on the wall.

I looked across to the other end of the hallway as far as I could see. The all had these small dents in a peculiar pattern until where I thought I saw the portal come from. The pattern of footprints. These must've been, I concluded, the footprints of White Cloak as he tried to escape the Judgment's attacks. But to cause footprints of this depth and size… he must've been a circle-footed sasquatch. Would this be considered a clue? I would have to let that decision be chosen by the Council. I sighed as I began to walk back to the Council room where the other members were waiting. Why weren't they helping, too? I wondered. I would have to go to them to find out. Only three were fighting, after all.

"Point of View Switch"

I took the shortest path I knew to the room. Hibiyomi and Tsukansu needed my help, and I would be there to support them. What Jeremy told me… could White Cloak really be back? I thought he just disappeared for the past five hundred years. But if he's really back… then what? I didn't know. We didn't have people to guard us or to protect us… like last time. But what could he be here for? If it really was the White Cloak we knew back then, and he's in that room… then I knew what I had to do. I had to stop him, at all costs, from releasing the halved ones. If I failed to, who knows what trouble we could be in. I was closing in on the hall where the room was. I could see wisps of white mist surround the whole pathway. I was finally in front of the small entrance to the room. Four people stuffed into this small room? I couldn't imagine the kind of damage that would be done to the room when all our fighting was done. But one thing I couldn't imagine even more… was the thought of who would be leaving this room, and who wouldn't.

I exhaled slowly and relaxed myself as much as I could. I swept back my white-gray hair and fixed my purple and white Council Robes. I got myself prepared and focused for a big fight. The second fight that would be important to me for the rest of my life. I stared blankly into the mist with my empty, white eyes, and raced in with confidence and a clear mind.

My run was stopped short by a shadow arm crossing my path. I huddled to a pause, my long hair and robes swinging forward. I saw that the fight had already begun. And no one was much aware that my presence was in the room. I closed my eyes and focused. I could feel the energy uprising from my body, surrounding the whole room, taking up as much space as it could.

I felt my hair begin to lift and defy gravity, the purple energy surrounding my whole body, which was too, defying gravity at this point. I felt the mist begin to clear around me, being pushed into the corners of the room, allowing full sight to finally come into place.

I reopened my eyelids to see Hibiyomi to the left, and Tsukansu with his own uprising energy a little to the right. And forwardly I saw… White Cloak. His cloak had changed a bit over the years, I see. And he was doing what I had suspected all along. He's going to release the halves from the scroll!

"Minoa, you're here!" Hibiyomi shouted at me. I gave a soft nod to him as I drew myself back down to the floor. He sounded frustrated. An expression I hadn't seen on him for years. He barely even talked. "You've got to help us, he's going to –

"I can perfectly see what he's doing, Hibiyomi," I told him in a serious manner. Why did I feel like I was scolding him? "Now," I turned my attention to Tsukansu. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Tsukansu, but we can do it now."

All I saw Tsukansu do in a replying manner was apply more energy. The air was heavy with it. Blue uprising energy was coming from his position and I could sense that there was about to be a big blow of an attack. "Hurry!" He said through a clenched voice, his lips not moving and his teeth tight with anger. "He's completing the final seal!"

"Right!" I replied, seeing White Cloak draw the last huge circle and start drawing the millions of designs in it. I began to increase my amount of energy as well, and soon the purples of mine and blues of Tsukansu's began mixing together in the air. I clasped my hands together as I took notice that my eyes would seem neon purple from the outside. I felt our energy charging up, and we both knew when it was going to be time to let it all out. I felt panic in my heart but also confidence. I hoped that our attack would reach him before he finished the seal. Our energy began to pour out of our bodies like raging fires. The long forgotten books of this dusty, small library began to float in the air, the bookshelves breaking to pieces slowly and floating in the air. Dark Blues and Blinking purples soon surrounded us in a shell of energy. Now! I thought, putting my energy into an attack right after Tsukansu.

We shouted in unison: "The Mindless Waters: Seacoast Crash!!!"

At that exact moment, our energy poured out even more, the air became as heavy as ever, pieces of the floor and walls were rising in the air. We molded our energy together, and in a matter of seconds we let out the biggest, largest, most enormous raging wave of water that could've been larger than the whole room I had ever seen before. It was outlined with a purple streak, a side effect of my strongest telekinesis on it. The wave itself was so strong in it's kinetic energy all ready, that I had to focus a lot more than usual to control it. At that same moment, White Cloak finished the last Circled Seal. He crashed his palm into the scroll, and as the waves crashed closer, the scroll was pushed back, and twelve racing orbs flew out of the scroll like bullets from a gun and began to swim in the air like drunken butterflies.

Then, White Cloak jumped towards the back wall, and Hibiyomi hid himself in the shadows to protect himself. White Cloak tried to dodge the crashing of the water by jumping the highest he could, but he failed. The water consumed him in a tsunami of angry, crazy waters. The pressure of the water was increased to a level so high by my telekinesis I bet it made a bigger hole than the Judgment did on the wall. This room could probably even be all torn up after this, too.

I controlled the water the best I could to keep it crashing into where White Cloak was underwater, but when the water finally cleared and our attack was over, we couldn't find the presence of White Cloak anywhere. Hibiyomi came out of the shadows unsurprised of the attack we just made, looking not at all amazed saying, "He got away…"

Tsukansu tightened his fist, and I suddenly had a feeling of nervousness, fear, and depression all together that would stay with me for the rest of my life, I knew. From now on, I knew that I had to live with the fact, that I failed my purpose in life, and let the path of the end of the world re-open.


	3. Chapter 3

I felt like giving up right then and there. I can't believe that I couldn't stop them from being released. Were we still so weak that we couldn't defeat White Cloak? These 500 years… have they all disappeared and have gone to waste?

I looked up in the air with my back up against the wall to see the twelve half spirits floating freely in the air, as if searching for something. The twelve, circular, multicolored orbs looked just like they would if they were still part of their Free Spirits.

I knew I couldn't stop them but I had to try one more time. I gathered most of the energy I had left, and sent a force field around the twelve orbs and tried to seal them.

They broke my lock easily, imploding it from the inside just by touching it. I felt weak and useless as I watched the orbs float out of the room. I was sure that Hibiyomi and Tsukansu were feeling the same way.

Hibiyomi followed them outside of the room and stared at them hard. Tsukansu and I were left alone in the room to look back at the success we have failed to reach. I sighed and stared at Tsukansu to see his reaction to all this. He was usually a fun guy to be with, always joking around. But this time, he had his back turned to me and didn't move. He didn't speak, didn't show anything of how he felt. I wondered if he was disappointed in me. But I knew all the same that he was depressed as much as I was, too.

"Minoa-san, you shouldn't be afraid," I heard a voice call to me. I turned to the entrance door to see Hibiyomi looking straight at me The room's appearance had cleared up. The white mist disappeared, no more thick energy in the air, no more water, just messed up books in all the wrong positions and the shelves broken into tiny bits on the floor, the hole we left from the attack almost bigger than the whole wall it hit. Books were soggy with their pages all torn and the covers soppy.

"I don't know if I can't be afraid," I finally replied, looking back down at the floor.

"No. It's not over yet," he told me, looking back to Fate Hall.

What did he mean? Didn't White Cloak get away? But in a way, he was right. I shouldn't sulk just yet. There's no way that I'll give up that easy! I thought as I walked back to the hallway.

Hibiyomi accompanied me back into the hallway, and we watched as the twelve powers floated around the room. Where had White Cloak gone? Did he run away? Was there some hope that we had actually won? We continued to watch the powers float gracefully in the air. Their direction was totally undetermined, it was like watching petals fly about in the air.

"Hibiyomi, have we won…?" I asked him, my limbs feeling weak and heavy. That fight took a lot of my energy out. I began to wonder if Jeremy had found any clues at the scene of the White Cloak's entrance, and what the rest of the council had in store for us.

"Don't be so sure yet… look closer," Hibiyomi told me, his voice as calm and steady, back to normal.

I did as he said, and looked down the hall. In the distance, I saw a figure mostly covered by shadow. The only part of him I could see was the bottom of his… white cloak.

A stab of pain, agony, and failure hit my body again after again. I felt that all the things I've been through were thrown away in just a moment. And I hated that fact. "We've failed… We've failed… and it's all your fault!" I yelled suddenly at White Cloak. He didn't give a reply. He just stood there. "Did you hear me?! It's all your fault! It's all … your…fault!" I shouted even louder this time, my anger rising, my telekinetic energy arising again, going off the charts.

My hair began to flutter around in the air again, my robes were defying gravity. Purple energy began to circle my angry expression. I really felt I was going to take this guy down.

White Cloak said nothing and walked forward. The shadow that was hiding him slowly crept away as he came into sight. His white cape was caked with blood and I saw inside his cloak was lots of red pouring out. His hood had blood smears all over it, and drops of the red liquid were dripping from all over his body. He walked weakly and unsteady, leaving blood tracks and stains on the plaster floor.

I didn't care how his appearance was. I didn't have any sympathy for him. He deserved it! I wanted him to die. To die!

He held up his gloved hands and showed them to me. I didn't know why he was doing so, but I soon discovered my answer.

I felt energy drain towards him and dust particles and plaster from before draw closer to him. Then I saw a hole form, an empty, circular hole. Purple outlines started to go into it, and a blazing green and purple energy started to rush into it. It was then clearly known what he had just made. A black hole. It was a weak one at that, but it was draining in the twelve half spirits. And I WASN'T about to let that happen.

"Don't think you can win that easy, It's not over yet!!" I shouted with all my strength. "Die!" I sent large debris of plaster I telekinetically broke from the wall past the black hole and tried to aim for White Cloak. He jumped away as the debris crashed into each other and broke into tiny pebbles while White Cloak pulled out a bottle from his pocket. I was amazed he could still jump after the damage we've done to his body. The bottle he held in his hand looked like a potion bottle and had green liquid in it. He threw it in the vortex and suddenly, the black hole changed into a portal. It looked like a dimensional portal of some sort. I soon figured out that this portal was his escape! I could tell by its color that it led to the outer world. Just as we suspected, I thought.

The portal tried to drain in the powers and White Cloak stood next to the scene.

"Not so fast!" I yelled. I sent more plaster at him and it was supported by Hibiyomi's Hell's Fissure, a groundbreaking shadow earthquake in the ground that lead to hell. It was his strongest attack and had always been used as a last resort. The air felt heavy again with energy, and I was determined to kill this man.

The Hell's Fissure cracked through the long hall and its walls and continued to break the solid surroundings while wild plaster debris flew in the same direction. Right before our attacks reached White Cloak, the flying orbs were sucked into the green portal and White Cloak jumped right in, and right after the portal disappeared, it left our attacks with no target. The cracks of the Hell's Fissure stopped in its tracks slowly, and my debris fell back down to the floor, leaving the walls with many holes and chunks of it missing.

The scene that was left was a whole entire side of the hallway having shadow cracks all over it with many holes leading way to darkness. The cracks seemed to lead to nothing deep in it. Just darkness was seen. It was dangerous to even walk on the side of the hallway because it just might crumble beneath your feet.

This time, I knew we were defeated, and Hibiyomi and I gave each other sulky nods. We went back to the room to retrieve Tsukansu from his depression and tiredness and decided to walk back to the Council Room. We had to take the long way due to the destruction we caused to the short path…

"Point of View Switch"

"Why aren't you guys helping Minoa and the others!?" I shouted as I stormed into the Council Room.

"Jeremy-san!" surprised voices cried out. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?! What are YOU doing HERE? Why aren't you people helping Minoa, Tsukansu, and Hibiyomi?! Aren't they your friends? Didn't you grow up as a kid with them? Didn't you promise to help each other no matter what?!?! Don't you care they could be dead right now!?!?" I yelled with my loudest voice I've ever used. I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I yelled at my friends. The people who took care of me for the past five years, the people who showed they cared about me, and the people I shouldn't be yelling at.

"Jeremy-san. You don't understand." Kanadou, the Earth Council told me in a steady voice.

"I do understand! You guys aren't helping Minoa and the rest because you don't care about them!" I continued to yell at them.

"No! You don't!!" Kanadou suddenly burst at me. His own loud voice made me calm down, and it seemed like he immediately regretted using a loud voice against me, but I was still unsure of why they didn't assist their partners.

"Then what?" I said in a sulky voice, my stare hard on the floor. I stood there in silence in front of the whole group who was facing me. They all had sympathetic faces and surprised faces that I didn't care about right now. I just stood there, feeling alone, feeling confused and unwanted again.

"Jeremy-san. We wish we could help them, but the thing is, we can't." Kanadou told me.

"Why not? It's not like it's against the rules! You're the ones that make the rules after all!" I rose my voice again.

"You're right, it's not against the rules. But it would be a bad thing if we did." He told me in a calm voice, unlike my own.

"What?" I said, confused.

"We are all powerful, Jeremy. But the Council is organized in a certain way. We are split up into four groups of three. This is because the three in each group can compliment each other's attacks in a well-behaved manner and produce a great attacking arsenal. If we all fought together with our powers, we would just get in each other's way, cramp up the space we have, cancel each other's attacks, and let the enemy get away. It'd be too confusing and too risky to work together at all times. Plus, if the enemy is dangerous, we shouldn't endanger all of us at the same time." Shintenmaru, the Life Council explained.

"But… don't you guys care about them? Don't you want to at least…" I sulked still.

"Of course we do. That's why it's best that we stay out of their fights. We wished we could help just as much as you would, Jeremy. But the thing is, that we can't. All we can do right now is wait for their return." Kanadou said.

"And what if they don't return!?" I yelled back, lifting my face with an angry expression. My sudden attack at them made them surprised and shocked. They all had faces of realization on their face.

"Then…" Kanadou began.

"Don't. I don't need an explanation. Just tell me another thing. Just what are they fighting for? Who is this White Cloak person, why is he here, and what does he have to do with all of this?"

Shintenmaru sighed. "Jeremy," he began. "Someone long ago, when we were kids just like you are now, wanted us for our powers. There were these things, called 'Free Spirits' that were the presence of the twelve strongest elements in the world. No one harmed them and they didn't harm anyone. They just wandered from city to city, floating around for no purpose. No one knew where they came from, but most people praised them. The others wanted their power. One certain man who was skilled in the arts and had lots of power and wanted even more sealed these twelve powers into twelve individual regular humans. Babies, to be exact. His purpose in sealing them into humans was that he knew that absorbing them directly would be too hard. He had to kill the humans and absorb it from them, since they became the shell of the power. But something got in his way, and let them grow up and control their powers. But along the way, there was a big fight that took place. The twelve powers were partially absorbed, but managed to be sealed into a scroll. Those twelve people, grew up to be good people and promised to help the world, and you see nine of them before your very eyes. That scroll that contained what we call, Half Spirits, was locked up in a room for safekeeping. Five hundred years passed without any sign of White Cloak again. Until this day. And what we think is happening, is that he's after opening the scroll, and repeating the past. He wants to release them, send them to the outside world and get twelve people to absorb them, and plans to kill them. Do you understand now, Jeremy?"

I gulped at the long explanation. "I-I see." I was surprised that so many years passed without them telling me this story. Their own life story. "So what if he does release them? What if Minoa and the rest failed?"

"If so, then…" Kanadou's reply was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. That moment, the nine councils shifted their position and got ready for who might be coming in. What if it was White Cloak?

"It's just us," a muffled Minoa's voice called. Everyone sat down and returned to normal as I ran to open the door for them.

"So… how did it go?" Shintenmaru asked, perching up his glasses, reflecting light.

They looked weak and tired, like they had just been beaten ten times over. Minoa and Hibiyomi were standing straight with fight marks all over them and Hibiyomi had to carry Tsukansu due to his sudden unconsciousness. "It's exactly as we suspected. And…" she began to tell them.

I listened closely to see where we go from here. What would happen? Did they win? Did they lose? What now?

"We lost." Hibiyomi finished her sentence. She was obviously too torn down to say it herself. Minoa stared hard at the floor beneath her as she gave off her depression and sadness to the room.

"It's okay," Hanabikai, the Fire Council said. "It's not your fault. Don't grief We have a plan on what to do."

"You-You do?" she said, her expression changing to a bit of hope. "Oh, by the way,. Jeremy-san, did you find any clues?"

Huh? It took me a while to figure out that she was talking to me. "Oh!" I said after a long pause with realization. "Not much," I told her. "Just holes that represent footprints which White Cloak made. How do you think those got there?"

"His footprints were holes?" She asked, sounding surprised. "White Cloak really has gotten powerful over the years, if his energy rate is so high that it leaves large footprints on the floor."

Shintenmaru cleared his throat, calling our attention back to him. We quickly turned back to him and gave an apologetic look for cutting him off right when he was about to tell us his "brilliant" plan. "Yes. Now that the twelve powers have been sent throughout the outer world, we have to find the twelve people and rescue them before White Cloak lays a hand on them." Shintenmaru replied.

"But how? There are millions of people out there that could have the power right now. How would we narrow it down?" Minoa asked, her expression begging for more information and hope.

"We suspect that they would continue where they left off. We had them taken out of us when we were teenagers, right? They most likely are going to look for teenagers as well. And they'll choose their own personality match up person like last time. This isn't much different from what happened 520 years ago." Shintenmaru explained.

"Looks like the past is repeating itself after all. But who would go look for the teenagers? We can't, we have to keep watch in this dimension." Hanabikai said, sitting in his comfortable bench against the wall, his face half covered with shadow.

"Well, even if we're pretty sure White Cloak won't be returning here pretty soon, due to the difficulty of making a vortex potion that crosses over to this side, we still have matters to attend here. So I was thinking…" Shintenmaru began to reply. He had that look in his eyes. That look of a brilliant plan. He was the master strategist of the council, after all.

Everyone in the room remained still and waited for the reply. Who would they be thinking of sending? Maybe only one of the Council members? Who? I felt all nervous and tingly all over for some reason. Why?

"I was thinking of sending Jeremy-san over here," he gave me a friendly look with his house like- red orange hair and his long, rectangular glasses.

"Me?!" I asked in shock. Why would they send me? I have no potential at all! "But… I can't…" I looked around the room to find everyone staring at me with an insisting smile. Even Hibiyomi gave a little fun look. I continued to pour out my surprise with my wide-mouthedness. "But, how would I find these people? There ARE still many teens out there to look from, and what if White Cloak finds them first?"

"That would have to be something totally up to you. You'll wear this golden pendant." Shintenmaru said as he got up from his place on the Council Table.

He walked over to a corner of the room and drew unsealing circles on it with his fingers. Out came a box from the wall containing a golden locket. "This locket," he said, walking towards me.

He was much taller than me, about two feet taller. It was a bit scary being around him. He bent down to my height, and opened the locket up. It was a big, circular locket with a golden string and golden shield pattern on the front with a red garnet-like crystal embedded in the middle. The inside of it had a blank circle screen divided into twelve individual pieces. "Whenever one of these pieces start glowing, it means one of the powers are being used other than that of the Council. It'll tell you the exact location in the world it is, and depending on the distance, we'll decide if we'll teleport you there or not. We rule this world after all, why can't we teleport people?" he said with a chuckling laugh. He seemed so calm, like this was some kind of toy.

"Now, you're going to be spending a long time without us in the outer world, so don't you go crying like you're going to the first day of pre-k. It's your time to shine and be strong, okay?" Shintenmaru said with a wide smile.

"Okay, but how would I convince them that they have the power you're talking about? Why would they believe a little kid like me?" I asked them, worried about what I might face in the future.

"Hmm… well, that depends. You can show them the locket that's glowing with their presence. They should have learned about the locket in their 5 years of education, don't you think?" There were nods all over the room, I sensed. "If they REALLY don't believe you, then we'll just have to meet them in person and tell them directly. Then from then on, they can convince each other."

"All right, I get it, but one more thing. What about White Cloak? Doesn't he have a plan to capture them too?" I asked them with the most nervousness I've ever felt.

"That, I don't know. I guess you'll just find out along the way. I know it's a bit dangerous, but bear with it. You'll have to make friends with the… oh what should we call them? We were called councils, so…" Shintenmaru said with a wondering expression. "How about Minors? Since they're only a fraction of the full power we would have. Yet, they are still strong. Our power is great, and even one hundredth of our power could still do great damage. You just have to make friends with them and hopefully they'll defend you from any White Cloak encounters. Of course, it's doubtful that White Cloak would fight you personally. Since one thing he doesn't know where you are, and doesn't know where they are."

"You'll have to be extra careful, Jeremy-san. Who knows what kind of plan he has in store to search for the twelve Minors? Just be safe. Do you have anymore questions?" Hanabikai replied.

"No, nothing at all. When do we start this search?" I asked, so I could know how long of a notice I would have.

"Oh, immediately." Shintenmaru replied, handing me the locket in my hands and walking away to put the box back.

"What!?! No way!" I yelled in surprise. I didn't even have time to prepare! This is impossible!

"Yes way." Shintenmaru told me with a smile. "We can't waste any time. What if White Cloak has one of them in hold all ready? We're counting on you, Jeremy. And we know you can do it." His smiles were always promising. They sometimes even boosted my confidence a little.

"O-Okay." I replied nervously. I looked around the room to see serious faces and trusting expressions.

"It's okay," Minoa told me. She walked up to me and bent down to reach my height. "I believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself. You have great undiscovered potential Jeremy. Maybe the Minors will help you find it along the way." She flashed me a trusting smile.

I soon became sick of the smiles and trusting looks. I must've set some kind of record for who's been smiled at the most. "I hope so." I told Minoa as I put on the locket. It was a little heavy, but I knew I'd get used to it. I had to.

"All right, come with me," Shintenmaru told me. He motioned for me to come to the large, Council table. The Council table was a huge, wooden table with the sign of the council on it. It was a large circle with encrypted signs of the twelve powers: Fire, Water, Plant, Lightning, Mind, Shadow, Wind, Earth, Sound, Metal, Freeze, and Life.

"What do we do?" I asked him, looking up to Shintenmaru and standing right by him.

"This is how you'll get to the outer world. Do you know everything you need to know?" he asked me finally.

"I guess. But I know I can do good." I told them. I looked at each of their faces. Minoa's eyes showed confidence in me. I won't let her down, I thought. Even Tsukansu arose from his unconscious state a bit and watched me as I was about to leave.

"Okay, then, good luck Jeremy-san," Shintenmaru told me as he placed his hands on the big circle on the table. It glowed a strong, multicolored light from its tracings and a portal soon appeared above the table. I stood up on Shintenmaru's chair, and took one last look at everyone, and jumped in. As I was being taken away from the home I had always known, I knew I would find a new one, somewhere along the line.


	4. Chapter 4

When I began my new road in life, I had no idea what I was in for. Or the trouble I would be in later in the future. I mean, right off the bat, I was given such a dangerous task that would take a long period of time. As I took my last final step for a long time in the Council's dimension, I gave everyone an unsure look hidden beneath an ensuring one.

"One more thing," Shintenmaru said. "If you ever need our help, just use the locket."

I looked at him as the words came out of his mouth and swallowed hard. Would I really need their assistance that often? I thought. "Okay," I told him unsteadily.

I turned back to the portal and stepped up onto the table. It was glowing brightly with its rainbow light, daring me, insisting that I go in. _Take a risk, _a voice suddenly popped into my head. Who's voice was that? It sounded so familiar… I hadn't enough time to figure it out. I decided to get it over with and jump in. Time for a new beginning, I thought.

I took a last deep breath, closed my eyes, and ran right into it. Leaving my only home behind, I wondered if I would come back differently than when I left. I surely hoped so. In only a matter of seconds did I found myself totally enveloped in an array of golden yellows and neon whites swinging by. I knew where I was. I was in the dimensional pause between the outer world and the Council's world. In other words, the beginning of the new reality I had to get used to.

The colors kept swinging past me, taking me on an exhilarating ride. My hair was flying behind me, my clothes fluttering wildly. I flew past the Judgment, hiding in its own little corner, screeching and roaring in agony, a black blob of empty space with tentacles. It didn't seem to care to see me passing by. I quickly lost sight and attention of it, and saw a white hole up ahead. There was the exit. My heart started racing from the turbulence and excitement. Here we go, I finally thought.

As the white hole grew closer, the gold and whites disappeared, consumed by the incoming white vortex. The portal I was about to go through was shining bright in my face. It was so hard I had to squint. I let go of all control on my body, letting my limbs swing freely as I "crashed" into the portal. I landed facedown, and I was soon consumed by all the glowing light. I felt like I was in another dimension all ready, being unfamiliar with my surroundings.

Soon, I was totally blinded, unable to see anything or feel anything. But a moment later I felt cool air around me, and solid ground beneath me. I felt something hot on the back of my neck. Something I haven't felt in a long time. Was I finally-?

I opened my eyes slowly to find a dirt sidewalk and crowds of people walking by. I turned around to discover the sun in my eyes. The spherical wonder covered in its blinding shield I hadn't seen for such a long time. I breathed in the fresh air and felt immediately calm. My feelings were just pacific as ever. I knew a wide smile was what I wore as I walked down the sidewalk.

I observed the townspeople as I wondered where I was. There were stalls and stores of all sorts selling all kinds of merchandise as I passed by. People were shouting prices and items and having fun. Suddenly, I heard a beeping. A beeping that was very close to me. What was it? I looked around my body to find the large, golden locket's red gem beaming like a piece of technology. I quickly grabbed it around my small fingers and desperately tried to stop the beeping. About ten seconds later did I find the switch that opened the cover.

The shield-style lid opened with grace, slowly rising to reveal what was inside, like a clam did with its precious pearl. I saw a red blinking dot on the face of the locket, saying YOU ARE HERE and an arrow pointing to the red dot. This blinking period was on a map of some sort, a zoomed version of a small island surrounded by the sea. I was near the coast, I realized. That's why I smelled such salty, oceanic air. Next to the red dot, I saw the name MIDGARTS ISLANDS: MIDSCAPE MARKET PLACE.

So that's why so many people are around me, I thought. I looked around and took a quick scan of my surroundings. Lots of sailors walking around, I thought. Lots of fish too, I sensed as I smelled the fresh scent of fried fish drifting around the area.

The large locket began beeping and blinking again, which took me by surprise, causing me to fumble with it, trying not to drop it. The map disappeared now, and all I saw was the twelve-piece pie chart Shintenmaru was talking about, with a green piece of it blinking sharply. I was beginning to wonder what now until the inside of the locket took me back to the map and pointed to where I was, saying in big letters on the top: LOCATION.

I began to wonder. Hmm… what did this pie chart mean again? Shintenmaru said it had to mean something like one of the half spirits was around me. Well, Minors, I guess I should start calling them since they're actually humans now. Teenagers, too. People who are at least 3 years older than me. I looked back to the map. It was exactly where I was. Just as I thought. I gulped. If I found this one, would he or she take advantage of me or act like I was a nuisance just because of my age? They'd better not. I'm trying to help this person after all.

The locket told me that the person was around me, but I didn't know exactly where. I guess that was the hard part. I clasped the locket lid tightly and set it back down to my midsection. This thing was way too heavy to be a locket, I thought. I still hadn't gotten quite used to carrying it around yet. Oh well, I knew It'd get more formal as time passed on.

I guess I should start searching. But where to start? I took a few nervous steps more around the sunny town of merchandise, the people around me still yelling their great bargains and statistics about their products. I took a long look around, trying to decide where a teenager would be. Food stands? Clothing stores? Where?

I made a few more nervous steps when something caught my attention. I turned to my left to find a fried fish stand. The scent that wandered from it tasted wonderful. It was salty and fresh, as expected from a market place so near the sea. I saw fried fish sticks and fish-on-a-stick, fish and chips, and so much more. It was exciting to be in such an atmosphere like this. But I had to keep my mind on what I was doing.

I looked around for more possible stores a teenager would be in. It was hard to choose between all of them, and I began to wonder if all twelve of my searches would be as confusing as this one would be. Hopefully, I would get better over time.

I cleared my throat as I walked on, passing by clothing stands and accessory stalls of all sorts. My apparent window shopping was interrupted by a loud group of people wowing and oohing and shouting remarks like "That's unbelievable!" or "Impossible!" and, "Look at this kid go!" I wondered what the commotion was all about and looked forward-right to find a group of people crowding a ramen shop. I decided to check out what it was all about and began to make my way towards their direction.

I imminently found myself lost in a large group of people, struggling my way through crowds and crowds of people. I pushed and shoved the best I could until I saw what was going on. They were crowding around this one customer who was gulping down what looked like his millionth bowl of ramen! The people were right. It was amazing!

The customer, using his swift craft with his chopsticks didn't seem to notice the crowd of people around him and ate the noodles hungrily to a craze. I wasn't sure if I should feel utterly disgusted or totally amazed, so I just stood there in front of the whole crowd and watched. The customer didn't seem to notice me, either. He kept his whole face in the bowl like a crazy animal. And the bowl was _big_. Believe me, I know.

The strange thing was the person who was eating all this didn't look obese like other gluttons I've seen. Was it fast metabolism? Was it magic? I couldn't decide. All I knew was that it was the strangest thing I've ever seen laid right before my eyes. This person wouldn't stop moving his chopsticks in a beastly manner and the munching, grumbling noises wouldn't take a breather as well. I soon began to wonder if he would ever come up for air as I watched for thirty straight seconds as he demolished that big bowl. He fashioned an orange headband tied around his forehead with a picture of the yellow sun on it. His hair was pure white, like snow held up against a light. On the side it had a little spiked up portion which made his look original. His body type was fairly average and I couldn't tell how his face looked due to the bowl two times the size of his head disallowing my sight.

Right after I stopped wondering my crazy thoughts, he finished and declared in a loud voice, "That's number nineteen!" He wore a huge smile on his face, his chin and mouth smothered in ramen bits and soup drops. He held his chopsticks high in happiness and crinkled his eyes like the most hyperactive clown you've ever seen. I could finally see his face when he declared his victory, and saw that his face was a teenagers', one with nice, green and wide eyes, and a smile that wore the healthy and handsome grin most teenage boys had. "Let's have another one!!" he shouted to the owner.

"All right!" the owner said, dumping another large-bowl order of ramen into the cooking pot, his expression happy with the business he was making.

This person's ability to eat so fast was amazing, and as I examined the past demolished bowls, I saw hints of red spice tinted all over the cheap china bowl. The noodles he was eating was spicy!? I screamed in my mind with disbelief. No wonder these people were so over-excited watching this kid! He's practically a freak of nature! I soon began to realize that his tasteless tongue wasn't natural. It almost seemed… powerful. I decided to take a closer look when he starts killing his twentieth bowl.

I took a seat next to this "talented" boy and was ready to examine him closely. As the store owner brought him another large bowl that was hot and ready, the noodles hissing with the spice on them, I saw the teen's eyes go crazy and picked up his chopsticks again, threatening the bowl with disaster. I couldn't bear to watch but I had to. What if this kid was a…

He soon began eating crazily like a wild animal again, putting his face forward into the bowl again as I looked for any strange aspect around his body.

Soon after he had begun, I noticed a green glowing light. It was coming from his feet, I realized. A neon green energy was surrounding the bottoms of his feet, the kind of energy that I saw around Minoa or Tsukansu when they used one of their special skills. I took a closer look at his feet, cautious of the others surrounding me that could be watching me as well. I heard a slight hum coming from them, and realized what he was doing immediately. The slight hum could only mean one thing.

It was a skill that Wasabi Kakori, the Botany Council used when he was running out of energy during training. Whenever he was fighting someone like Hanabikai, who specialized in fire attacks, he would be surrounded by heat a lot and get dehydrated. As a skill to counter that ability, he ingrained vines from his own feet and all the way down to underground water sources, where he could re-hydrate himself. The bad part is, he couldn't move. And whenever he used this skill, his feet glowed of a green energy, the same kind of energy this guy right next to me is using!

All of a sudden, I felt strange seeing someone that didn't resemble any Council member using one of their skills. It just didn't feel… right. I returned back from my past memories all together as he finished the last bowl. "Number Twenty!!" he shouted with great enthusiasm. After that, he didn't order anymore and the crowd whined in disappointment. But the customer just paid his bill and laughed. He thanked the owner for a "great" lunch and walked out of the store. I noticed that when he began to walk, he had a hard time, and almost tripped. As he did, he had that look in his face that asked, "Huh? What's going on?" so I assumed that he didn't know that he had the Botany Half powers.

He walked out of the store looking happy, wearing that handsome smile all teenage boys used. I followed him outside as the crowd began to clear away. All of a sudden the owner seemed like he was lonely and tired at the same time. I left the store in a hurry and saw the strange customer walk away. I stopped in my tracks so he wouldn't suspect that I was following him.

Oh, what would I do now? I thought. Shintenmaru didn't exactly tell me what to do when I found one of them. All he said was tell them who they were and they would realize it. But what do I do? I just go up to him and say, "Hi, did you know you have a Half Spirit inside you that was a part of the Free Spirits?" No. That wouldn't work. I looked back to him as he continued to get farther away, and I began to walk towards his direction again, hiding myself to veil my presence.

It was almost sunset, I realized, and the sun was setting in the direction the person was walking towards. I followed him until we were out of the Market Place and into this place on the edge of a cliff with a few trees around. He walked casually, his hands stuffed into his green sweaters' pockets. I hid myself behind a tree and kept watch on him, my back against the trunk. What could he be doing? I wondered as I watched him almost go off the edge of the cliff. Is he going to jump off? No. He didn't. He just stood there, listening to the rushing and roaring of the ocean waves against the shore below, watching the sun as a half circle upon the seawaters, painting it's bright light on the calm waters far away and shining on the azure sky, the clouds around it colored with all shades of purple and orange. It was a peaceful scene, and I felt guilty for following him all the way out here. This was obviously his "happy" place.

He stretched his arms out in the air, letting them get a rest after all the hard work they had just been through at the ramen store. He took in a deep breath and whistled it all out, his chest rising and falling. He took a seat on the cliff and just watched.

What do I say, what do I say? I panicked. I shouldn't bother him now, should I? My heart began racing to a speed not known to the human race as I heard a rustling in the bushes behind me. What was that? I thought. I drew my stare back towards the outside of the area, looking as far as I could for anyone. Surprisingly enough, I saw someone. A figure was nestled into the bushes directly behind but far away from the relaxed Minor.

Then, with a fluttering speed, I saw the figure race out of the bushes, creating a loud rustling from the bushes in which the person was hiding. I took in a sharp breath as I realized that the Minor was in danger. He was totally unaware that there was a person coming right in his direction, his hands still stretched in the air as he was sitting near the edge of the sunny cliff.

The figure soon came to a stop about five yards away from him. I thought it was White Cloak at first, but I began to see clearer and saw it wasn't. It was a girl. A girl with purple short hair with black outlines on the sides, and mean, punk eyes. She wore dark violet lipstick around her sinister expression, and was wearing a black-violet sleeveless top with thick, dark purple and black bracelets. She was also wearing torn jean shorts that went down to before her knees.

I realized fast enough that I was somewhat scared of her. It was not only her look but her stare that she put on at the sight of the Minor laying right in front of her, not having the slightest idea of what's going on.

The girl looked like a teenager as well, and swung her arms crazily in the air in some kind of pattern. She put her hands together in a spherical form finally, and released the hold. It looked like she was casting some kind of spell, but I knew what she as I observed the long and wide neon purple waves come from her palms. They gave a sharp hum and I was sure that the Minor wouldn't survive the attack. He would fall off the cliff!

"Stop!!" I said suddenly, even surprising myself, coming from my hiding place and standing in front of the attack as it was inches away from me.

"_Don't let anyone stand in your way,"_ Minoa had told me before. _"Whenever you have a goal in life, don't let something ridiculous in your path. Don't let a little trouble get in your way. Cope with it, and resolve it. Got it?"_ She spoke to me in a quiet manner, tapping my forehead with her finger.

_"Yes!"_ I had replied to her with confidence. Was I about to go back on my words now? No! I haven't even been given a chance to show that I meant what I said. I felt my heart rate pump up again and higher this time as the purple waves neared me.

The girl looked surprised that I seemed to come out of nowhere and tried to block the attack.

"Take this!" I heard a voice behind me mutter. It was the Minor! He had realized that there was someone all along and noticed the attack coming toward him! I looked behind me to see that he had stood up quickly, spun and flashed a parade of light balls at me. I knew that attack. I've seen Kakori use it a million times. Crap! I thought. Now I was caught between two attacks. Was I going to die right here right now? Have I failed my mission all ready?


	5. Chapter 5

As I stood between the two attacks, one side with purple rays, the other side with light beams, I gulped and closed my eyes. I knew that I couldn't escape being sandwiched between two attacks, so my only choice was to stay in position. Tension pumped by blood and darkness of my eyelids was what I saw.

I waited for the impact to take me to another world. A world of pain and most likely unconsciousness, but I would learn to deal with it. That would be something I would have to learn if I was ever going to complete this mission.

The contact of the two attacks was strong just like I expected it, and hurt like the hell-stabbing pain it was supposed to be. Once the purple rays mixed in with the light beams, I knew it was over. A cloud of dust caused by the impact's explosion sent me flying all the way to the other side of the cliff. I was sure I almost fell off, but I think I was spared.

I was glad the attack was over with, but why did it hurt so much? My limbs felt like they weighed ten tons and as weak as a limp corpse on the grounds of a cemetery. Even after the whole phase was over, my heart still beat with the highest velocity known to man as I laid on the floor, helpless. I struggled a lot to get up, breathing hard every now and then, taking sharp breathes, but none of it helped. This mission would become complicated, I realized.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the Minor pose a worried look on his face. He was most likely surprised that he saw me about to be sandwiched between two attacks. I guess he knew that the girl was there all along? Either way, he quickly ran to my side and desperately tried to help me up. He put my arm over his shoulders and helped me up while I was half asleep, my head nodding down and my glare stuck on the floor like a snail. "Are you okay?" he asked me, lifting my body with ease. I tried to lift my head but it was too hard. Damn it, don't fail on me now! I thought.

I coughed out a big cloud of dust. "Yeah," I said through a choked voice. This guy's good for a beginner Minor controlling his powers. But his attacks were still unfocused and weak. I've seen Kakori do so much better with his light and plant attacks.

"Hey, you over there!" called the punk looking girl again. She didn't seem concerned for my safety at all. She actually looked happy that I was knocked down by such a strong attack that my body felt weak all over after. God, what an unsympathetic hole, I thought loudly in my head. The Minor looked back to her, my arm still around his shoulders helplessly.

"What?" he asked, trying to put a mean look on, I saw. I guess he was one of those hyper, happy people. He didn't look to serious all the time. But at least he was considerate. I coughed out another thing of dust again. He didn't show it, but I could sense his feelings of protection with a hint of fear.

"Why the hell are you taking care of a kid? I came here to kill you without any interruptions. Do I really need to kill some 7 year old too?" she snickered under her breath.

"I'm ten," I struggled to tell her, still coughing and hacking out dust. "You stupid old hag." So I'm short for my age. Shoot me. There's no need to assume.

She scoffed. "Whatever, you're still a kid," she pointed out. "A stupid, naïve kid."

"Leave him alone!" my protector yelled. "He didn't do anything to you. This is just between you and me," his voice louder now, his short, white hair swaying softly with the light breeze.

"You're right. Thanks for pointing that out," the girl declared, moving her arms again for another attack.

PoVS (Point of View Switch! Remember it!)

Why this lady wants to kill me I have no idea. But I knew one thing. I couldn't just let this kid die in the middle of a cliff. I had to get him out, but how? That pain is casting another Luck Spell. And what could I do? I could barely control my powers. Plus, why was this kid here anyway? Didn't matter, I guess. He was here, that's all I needed to know.

"This is for calling me an old hag!" that annoying girl yelled in her cackling voice, sending another set of purple waves in my direction. I picked up the kid and ran for it. We made it barely, hiding behind a tree trunk. I began to wonder, did this kid try to save me? Is that why he jumped in? He coughed a cloud of dust in my face, stinging my eyes. Real polite, I thought.

We were safe behind the tree trunk for now, but I didn't know how long we could hold. "So, tell me," I began to talk to him. "You're that kid from the ramen store aren't you? Why did you try to save me?" I asked him, his body limp in front of me, our presence dark from the shadow of the thick enough tree.

He cleared his throat. He obviously had too much dust to breathe in. "Because, it's my mission to protect you." He coughed yet again. His mission to protect me? What was he, a guardian angel or something? Am I going crazy?

The tree trunk behind us suddenly snapped and fell down, leaving our identities revealed behind a cloud of dust. "You didn't really think you could hide from me, did you? Honestly, how stupid do you think I am?" she scoffed at us, one hand at her side.

"Stupid enough," I shot back at her comments. I picked up the kid in my arms again and ran for it once again. We were blasted by Luck shots one after another. I was beginning to wonder how long we could keep this up.

"So," I began to talk to him again, hiding behind another tree with a grassy base and larger trunk. "What do you mean by it's 'your mission' to protect me?" I asked with cheerful eyes, and a careful grin.

"I mean…" he coughed again. His voice was raspy, and he needed water fast. I felt like he was going to choke right then and there. "You're a Minor… I know it. That light attack you made. You can't explain why you can do that kind of stuff all of a sudden, can you?" he asked me. The same exact question I had been thinking since last night. I don't even remember much of it, really. What really happened? Did this kid know?

"A Minor? What's that?" I asked him, desperate for answers.

"I can't explain now," he said with a raspier voice this time, then coughing another dust cloud. "Too…dangerous and weak…" Why was he acting like this? My light beams shouldn't have harmed him that much. "More importantly, do you know that girl?" he asked me, his eyes seeming heavy.

"Yeah. She's been following me since this morning. I don't know why though. Do you have any idea? I'll answer all your questions if you answer mine." I didn't get a reply from him, just a smile and a laugh. I smiled back. I liked to make kids laugh. But this wasn't the time for that. I looked behind the tree to look for the girl, but she had disappeared. Where had she gone? I crawled out of our hiding spot to find her right there on the other side of the trunk! I took in a sharp breath as she hit me with a luck spell so hard that it made my body twist and roll out of control on the floor all the way to the tip of the cliff. My clothes were now covered in dust and the kid was still there, weak. I left the kid behind, I realized. I shouldn't have left him in order to look for the girl in the first place.

My arm felt numb and broken all of a sudden, and purple sparks were flying from it. Crap, that was a hell of a spell, I thought. I felt like my fate was sealed.

"Had enough yet?" the fellow teenager asked me, walking closer towards me. I took a few steps back. I was close to falling off the edge, but I needed to be ready to avoid her spells. Who knows what affect it'll have on me next. Probably turn into some kind of lizard-mutant thing, I guessed. I didn't answer her question. I just thought she was a snob and should go to hell. "Apparently not," she told me, firing another wave at me.

I tried hard to dodge this one, I really did. But it made a direct hit anyway, and I almost fell all the way down off of the cliff but thankfully, I clung on to a cragged rock protruding off of the cliff's side. My left arm was rendered completely useless and I wondered how I could climb back up with only my right arm. I was dead, I realized.

"I think after all this time, we haven't gotten a chance to introduce ourselves," she said, standing on the edge of the cliff, looking down on me with that evil smirk of hers. "My names Kabuki Mizuurai. But you can call me Hazard. Thrilled to meet you," she said as she gave her hand out to me, offering to help me back up.

Should I trust her? No, I decided. No way! Not in a million years! "My name's Dylan," I introduced myself, "and I'm never thrilled to see you." I said these words as a ball of light shot from my hand that was desperately still clinging on the rock and hit Hazard right in the face. I could control this power pretty good for a beginner, I thought. I snickered at my victory. But I had more troubles. That kid back there really seemed like he was about to faint, and I have no way of getting back up there. What to do, what to do? I thought, thinking hard.

"Bastard, you'll die for that," she told me, using one hand to hide her left eye which I had probably blinded for a momentarily period of time. "Rest in hell," she spoke, sending another spell with her palm through the cliff. The humming of the waves took over my ears and so did the crumbling and cracking sounds right after it. Pieces of rock started falling from the cliff-edge, and the shifting of stone was heard. No way, I thought. She's trying to make the whole cliff collapse! I held on to dear life as more rocks paraded down to the crashing of the ocean. The hungry seas beckoned for my downfall below.

All I could do for now was hold on, and I knew for sure that I was dead. Until I saw that figure appear behind Hazard. "Wha-?" I muttered as I looked hard to see who it was. It was that kid from before! He was standing up! But something's different. His eyes weren't right. I'm sure that they were dark brown before. Why did they look so dark and black now? And what's with that emotionless expression on his face? He didn't look right. He wasn't the same kid with those weak eyes and friendly expression anymore.

"What're you muttering about?" Hazard told me in a scolding way as she turned to find the kid a few yards behind her. "You again? What's up with you? Don't you ever give up?" I could see she sent a luck spell at him, too.

Oh, boy. "Kid! Get away! Dodge it!" I told him, desperate to rescue him just like he tried to do so for me. But he didn't listen. He just stood there, with that expressionless face and dark, ghostly eyes. He looked like he was possessed, waiting for the attack that could've been easily dodged. But it was too late. It was getting too close, now.

The smell of fresh oceanic air, rock dust and sounds of the ocean crashing waves was all distracted from my mind now. I tried so hard to climb up with one arm, I think it was actually working! I kept my stare on the kid all of the time, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He looked so cheerful back then, even when he was coughing like a choking goat. So what's wrong now?

Just as the attack was inches away from his body, the attack, strangely, got sucked into this huge portal that came out of nowhere. It defended the boy, sucking in all of the spells that were cast around the area, including the one that disabled my left arm. Perfect, I thought. I climbed my way back up, and watched behind Hazard as the portal went on vacuuming everything it could.

The trees shifted wildly and the shrubs were swaying crazily with no resistance. Hazard's hair was swinging out of control, too, and I felt like I was being sucked in closer. Where did that portal come from? It was so sudden, like a dream. It had streaks of purple and black turning counter clock-wise into it, like it was some kind of deadly black hole. "What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" I heard Hazard yell, blasting another wave of spells in his direction. It was no use, the attacks just got sucked into the portal like the rest. It even seemed to grow bigger as it sucked in more things, the gravity pulling us toward it growing stronger. I knew I couldn't resist it for long. Why is my life full of death involved situations lately?

I couldn't see if the kid was safe, if he had been sucked into the portal, too. It was too big by now. I had to make sure he was okay. I climbed the cliff and got up on my feet and tried to stay in place as best as I could. I ran past the portal that was constantly growing, feeling the strong vacuum trying to pull me close. and saw the kid standing behind the portal. He was safe! I thanked god for his safety, but who should I consult about his weird expression? His eyes were surely dark brown before, and now I _know_ that they're black. They almost looked… evil. What was wrong with him?

"Kid! Kid!" I called out to him. Maybe I could wake him up. I snapped my fingers in front of his face as I bent down and put my hands on his shoulders. What's possessing him like this? What's going on? I shook his whole body to try and bring him to his senses, but the only thing I got back was a long, blank stare. I looked back to where Hazard was, but couldn't. The portal had grown too big and created a gap between the edge of the cliff and our side.

I returned to the boy in front of me, who I suspected created the portal. "Oh god, kid, wake up! This isn't a time to be like this! I need you to answer my questions, remember? You said I was a Minor. What's a Minor? Just what is it? Why is it your mission to protect me, huh? Remember, you said that you had a mission to protect me? Do you remember that? Why do you have to protect me? Why is that your mission?" I asked him multiple questions with a rising voice after each one. I was so much in shock and totally freaked out, I didn't know what else to say to him.

But thankfully, I didn't have to think of anything else. Soon after my words his eyes faded back to their dark brown and the color came back to his face. I felt the portal disappearing behind us, allowing the sunlight to shine on us once more. The portal was so strong it even absorbed sunlight? No way. Totally impossible. Was it? The light of the sunset spilled on his face, and darkened mine. As the facial expressions became available to this young child again, I was grateful that he was safe.

"Hi," I said. I didn't know what else to say, give me a break.

"H-Hi. What happened?" he asked me, his eyes full of confusion.

"Er… nothing. That girl…" I began to tell him, and turned back to where "Hazard" was. But she was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gone? I looked back and saw nothing but a pool of blood smeared all over the floor. "Oh… "I groaned in disgust. No way… Did this kid really kill someone without realizing it? Was it his fault? Should I give him another chance?

"What?" he asked, trying to see behind me.

"Oh! Nothing!" I laughed, blocking his way so he wouldn't see what he had caused. I guess he really didn't know he killed that Hazard girl. "It's just… that girl ran away after I showed her my awesome moves. See, I can defend myself. For a Minor." I smiled.

"Huh?" he asked, still pretty much confused. "What-?" he began to think, I saw. He looked around in confusion and then returned his stare to me.

"Would you mind explaining what a minor is exactly? Since you told me I'm one of them?" I asked with a wide smile. I fixed my sweater and headband and prepared for him to tell me. The oceanic air and fresh tree's scent returned to the scene. Everything was peaceful again.

"Oh… Sorry," he told me, feeling his head. "My head just hurts a little, I don't know why. Anyway…" he continued. He told me the whole story. The whole story about this White Cloak guy and how he released the Half Spirits and about the pendant and the Ingrain move I used when I was eating those spicy noodles, and every bit and detail. We got to talking and I told him I'd help him search and come with him. No way would I get killed by White Cloak.

"By the way, do you know who that lady was?" he asked me as we started walking back to the market place, night time beginning to rise.

"Well, my best guess would be that she was working for White Cloak, don't you think? You said that White Cloak wouldn't know where you are, so maybe he has people working for him to kill the Minors for him. Does that make sense?" I asked him, trying to figure out the rest of it.

"Yeah, I guess, but we can't be too sure," he told me with a smart look in the eye.

We continued to walk through the market place. The stores were finally closing down for the day and would return tomorrow. All the items and merchandise were being taken down, he stalls and stands being taken apart. It seemed so empty now that there weren't crazy crowds of people shopping during the day time. It just looked dead now. The scene was painted orange by the almost-finished sunlight, and we were soon out of the whole place and into the road that lead to the next city when I remembered something. "Hey," I told him.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning his face to me, still walking.

"Well, you've explained so much to me, and in the end, I still don't know you're name. What is it? Mine is Dylan," I told him with much confidence.

"Mine is Jeremy," he told me with a wide smile, feeling his golden locket that the Council had given him.

"Nice to meet you Jeremy," I told him as I shook hands with him. I still had a few questions though. Not about this whole "mission" thing. About what happened back there. He told me that the Council adopted him because they sensed he had great power that he hadn't noticed yet. Is it really because he had never used it before, or is it because he keeps forgetting he uses it? It would be a question to ask the Council when we meet them. If I meet them and don't die along the way, that is. Because if that was an example of his real power, the ability to create a black hole out of nowhere and recover from his raspy voice status and his weak state, then lots of people could be in loads of danger in the future. Being all normal after being so weak and worn down as he was in a period of 5 minutes isn't that regular, you know?

We continued to walk away from the Market Place and into the new road. It had lots of curves and hills, I saw. But it was okay. I knew we'd get lots of people to help us along the way. I looked back to find the half-half circle of sunset still smiling upon us, shining its orange light on the road to guide us in the future. And with that guidance of light, we continued to walk down the path of life to find what would be in store for us next.


	6. Chapter 6

"It's nearing night time," I noted to Dylan, staring at the sky that was painted with violet blues and varnished blacks, beginning to tint with miniature dots of stars. By now, we were long down the route, the night sky up and free.

"Yeah, I guess," he told me, sounding tired. We kept walking on through the road that would lead us to Minuka City, where Dylan lived and had to get all of his possessions ready to continue with the quest. I hoped that another Minor wouldn't be revealed while I was waiting for him. That would be quite troublesome.

As we walked side by side, I tried to figure out why the Botanical Half picked his personality specifically to embed itself into. I faced my glare in his direction, in other words to my left, and began with the physical details. I slowly began comparing him to Kakori, the Botany Council. He didn't seem to notice my glare stuck on him, he just kept walking, pacing slowly into the forest we would soon be surrounded in.

First, I thought of Kakori's physical features. Kakori had a kind of pony-tailed hair. It wasn't long, it's just that his pony tail was extremely short and spiked up like triangles sticking out of the back of his head. Tied with a rubber band, his dark, ivy green hair was almost consumed with black. It was just outlined with a few dark greens, that's all. He had eyes that showed the state of the innocent. Just like a child's eyes. Just like Dylan's eyes. All wide and green shaded for Dylan, white shaded for Kakori.

Kakori's eyes would crinkle into small lines painted on his face when he smiled a wide smile, just like Dylan's did when he ordered his twentieth bowl of ramen. They both usually got excited over things, like a new idea for a technique or lunch time. They both seemed pretty nice, like they couldn't harm a fly. But I knew that wasn't true. I've seen both of them in a serious state. And Kakori would go on a rage if he had to. I wondered if Dylan was the same.

"What's going on?" Dylan said in his own, kid-like voice. He stared at me with upward crinkled eyebrows, his eyes steering off to the bottom right towards me.

"Nothing," I said, keeping my thoughts to myself. I stood up straight and felt the wind brush us gently with its gentle hands as we followed the dirt walk into the lively, green forest. Dylan didn't seem to believe my words and turned his eyes back to the walk, his eyebrows still crinkled in wonder.

"Do you think we should stop for the night? It's getting a little dark, and I don't think we should walk too much in the dark," Dylan insisted in a voice that seemed like he was trying to protect me. Well, newsflash. I don't need to be protected. But I didn't want to be rude.

"Okay," I said, looking around to see flocks of trees surrounding us. "But where would we sleep?" gently feeling the bark of a young tree, touching the crags and pricks of the wood.

"I think there's a hill all the way to the east side of this road. Let's head for that. We don't really have anything to keep us warm, but it'll help us conserve energy. We can start early in the morning," he told me, directing his arm to the east side of the forest that led to a bunch of trees.

I stared down the way we were supposed to go, where my sight was lost within the branching trees in the way. I was pretty nervous about staying the night on a hill, unlike in a bedroom like I usually did with the Council, but I guess it'll have to do.

As we changed our direction and headed for the large hill to rest ourselves for the next few hours, I began to wonder if I should contact the Council, telling them that I all ready had a Minor on my side. They would be proud to hear so. It had only been the first day, and I had found one and gotten him on our side. But a part of me went against it, and I don't know why. I couldn't see any reason why I shouldn't tell them. Maybe I was just too tired. I'll contact them in the morning, I decided. We finally reached the large hill, which was about ten feet high in the air and seven feet wide.

I sat myself down on the base of the hill, staring up into the night sky, watching the starry wonders blink in the sky. The violets and blues were fading amongst the horizon now, and the dark purple was taking over. "Hey," Dylan called to me. His voice seemed to come from above me.

I turned my head quickly to see where he was. I looked around the hill, but couldn't find him. Then I finally looked up to the top of the hill. There he was, nestled on top of the tall hill with his legs sticking out, his back straight up. "I'll be up here," he told me. "Will you be okay down there?" he asked me with a grin and cheery eyes, looking up at the night sky as well.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," plopping down back to the base of the hill where I had been before. I wasn't the least bit surprised he could climb up the hill and find his seat on the top. Frankly, I didn't really care. I began to stare at the sky again, the twinkling dots in the sky smiling upon me. The scene in the sky painted the forest darker, making the light green regular greens, the browns and whites darker.

For some reason, the stars reminded me of the past. The past I wanted to forget. But also a past to cherish forever. I thought of how I was five years ago before I met the Council, lost in some desert I had no idea where it was. As I continued to glare at the shiny marks in the sky wide-mouthed, I was taken back slowly into my memories…

_It was a ho day that seemed like summer. The desert sand provided no solid ground for my bare feet and no water for my dry lips. I didn't know who I was or what I was doing there. All I knew, was that I had to make it through the desert. Or else I would die. Why? I don't know._

_My pace was soft and steady, the hot desert heat shaking the air at the bottom. The surroundings were barren and sweaty, and the sky above me was cloudless and sun-fried. I gasped for cold air violently, wondering what I was doing in such a hot place like this. Wondering where I had come from. I was almost completely dehydrate, I realized as I continued walking on the unsteady sands. Bits and grains of it were sticking to my feet and the short sleeved shirt and shorts I was wearing were torn up and ripped._

_There was no one to be seen around the area, only my shadow and I. I believed that that was all I needed in my life. Just myself, and my shadow to live on. There was no way to believe anything else, after all. No one was around me. No one came around and cared for me. No one gave a rat's butt as to where I was. I was just lonely, and I didn't know where I had come from; where I was born. I didn't know anyone in this world. Anyone. Everyone was a stranger. _

_As my hateful thoughts reined my mind, I collapsed due to dehydration. I needed water. But no one would give it to me. I needed a helping hand. But no one was there to help me up. I was alone, and I knew I was about to be dead. _

_I breathed in the brown sand heavily as I tried to somehow reach cold air by breathing over and over again as hard as I could. The sun continued to fry my back as the hot, unstable sand cooked me from my chest. My legs felt weak and heavy, like they were broken by the sun's crucial rays. _

_But just as I felt like blacking out, a figure appeared over my head. The strange shadowy figure gave way to shade upon myself, blocking the sun from any further punishment on my useless life. I tried to focus my tired eyes and turned my body over. I was still breathing hard as I noticed the face on the figure. It was a face of sincerity, of support. But who was this person? What was he or she doing here?_

_"Hey," her voice called out to me. It was a girl. At this point I was wondering if I was seeing a mirage. Was this a mirage? Am I really imagining all of this that's happening right now? "Looks like you could use a hand to help you up," she said, reaching her hand out to me among the hot desert sands._

_A hand to help me up? That was exactly what I needed. But how did she know? I gave her my hand slowly, my arms weak and tired from being in the sun all day, the moisture in them practically dried out. _

_She slowly helped me get up and brushed the sand out of clothes without touching me. I was totally amazed. How was the sand escaping into the air from my clothes without any contact or touch? Was she causing this? Grains of sand got caught in my eye as I tried to see the figure of this taller woman. I was but five years old, and this girl seemed like she was in her thirties or twenties. What was she doing here? I asked myself one more time._

_"I'm here to help you," she replied, flashing a smile smothered with the shadow she made with the back of her head, her whole face seeming as cool as a piece of ice, not at all bothered by the sun. Was she reading my mind? Did she know what I was thinking? Just who is this girl?_

_"In a way, you could say I was reading your mind. But what I was really reading was something else. Something so much stronger," she began to talk. "My name's Minoa. I'm part of the Council."_

_"The Council? What's that?" I asked her, still hot and tired from walking such a far distance._

_"The Council, is a twelve man group that teamed up together to… basically, help the world from its current state," she told me. I was glad to hear that there were people like that in our world. Was there hope for me after all? The woman gave me a happy smirk beneath her white streaks of hair blocking the right side of her face. "You've been through a lot, haven't you? I can sense your pain, and I want to help. You haven't had a proper education either, have you? You don't even know why you know the words you know, or why you understand the things you understand."_

_"Y-Yeah," I told her. So she did understand. She did have powers. Would she be the savior of my life? We got to talking, and she said that she'd raise me under her supervision as a Council Trainee. I'd asked her why she chose me to be a part of her life all of a sudden after just meeting me, but all she replied was, "You have great power, and I know you don't know you have them. So I want you to become our Trainee so you could discover and learn how to use them. Understand?" I had nodded to her and said yes. I wasn't sure I understood anything I heard, but I was so light-headed and confused, she opened some kind of portal in the middle of the desert and pulled me in. She took me to the Council's dimension, where I had stayed for the last five years. They named me Jeremy, after something I don't remember. But my name from now on was Jeremy, and I had learned so much from them ever since._

_From then on, I felt loved. I felt protected. I felt like someone wanted me for a reason and treated me like anyone else. I was given a whole new chance in life, and I respected that. From that point on, I knew that I would be lonely no more. From that point on, I knew I was safe._

Now I was here, sitting in front of a hill, staring up into the sky, remembering the past. "Hey Jeremy," Dylan called me from above. I looked up to where he was to see his face staring down at me with one of his handsome grins again. Those things were seriously getting annoying.

"Yeah?" I asked him, remaining in place on the front of the hill.

"You okay down there? You hadn't said or done anything for the past ten minutes," he stated, worried. The darkness of the night had taken over by now, and the violets were gone, covered by the dark blackness of the night sky.

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine," I told him, turning away and looking back up into the illuminated but yet, still dark night sky. I felt like each and every star, each and every glinting phenomenon in the sky represented one memory from my forgotten past. One memory that I had chosen to treasure and keep some idea of within my heart for the rest of my life. And as I began to count the stars and label them each with their own forgotten memory, I slowly drifted into a peaceful, dreamful sleep…


	7. Chapter 7

During a sunny morning, we found ourselves roaming the stone-paved grounds of Minuka City, one of the largest cities in the world. We didn't plan to stay there long, just to get Dylan ready to go who knows where next, and into the ship that lead to the main continent. We'd figured that if another Minor would happen to appear, we'd have more of a chance finding them if we went to the main land.

"So tell me," Dylan said as we walked by the stone built houses and grounds with few people out in the rich, happy city.

"Tell you what?" I asked confusedly as I looked up to him, trying to figure out what he was saying. We walked down the city walkway, passing by a city lamp. By now, it was late morning, and the lazy people had just gotten out of bed, roaming the city like ghosts dwelling in a haunted house. The city was quite large, a whole forest to the south of it and a sandy beach port to the north. The city was under populated for it's wide area, but many houses still stood high in pride on ever corner of the long walkway. There were no streets like a formal city, it was all just stone, and people were happy to go wherever they wanted. The air there was fresh, and the whole place was shaped like a hexagon. The oxygen the inhabitants breathed had hints of the ocean air in it, which was strange considering how close we were to the sea. I pushed all these notices of mine into the back of my head as I waited for Dylan's reply. I didn't know why, but I couldn't help thinking that I had forgotten something.

"Tell me how my powers are really like and how they work," he finally told me as we turned the corner, his hands behind his head, walking in a carefree and relaxed manner.

"Oh," I realized. I guess he would want to know something like that. But this question of his… wouldn't it be one that you would get from someone with a thirst or awe for power? "Well," I began. I wasn't sure if I should tell him, but I knew that I should learn to trust them and get them as close to me as I could. "You can only use some light powers so far, I see, but there's so much more. Your type of skill is related to the element of botany, which also involves plants. I've seen Kakori-sama use plant attacks all the time. You've probably used plant techniques without realizing it, though," I told him, in confidence that he wouldn't go all ballistic and power hungry and betray me. Why did I think this? I thought. Have I not yet learned to trust people?

"Kakori? That's the name of the Botany council?" he asked me, his expression piqued with interest. "So, what do you mean by plant skills that I haven't noticed me using?"

"Yeah," I told him. "Well, remember back in the ramen store, when you couldn't feel any spices?" I asked, picturing the scene. The memory still made me disgusted. It's hard to believe a human could eat that much ramen and not turn sick.

"Yeah," he told me with a realizing look. "I still don't know how that happened."

"Well, basically, it's a skill called ingrain. I don't know how you activated it, but it's when you implant roots into the ground from your feet and absorb the water from any underground sources the roots can find, and since you were near the coast that time, there was tons of water sources. But your vines had to reach down far to get to them, though. So I'd say you're pretty much getting the hand of power control so far."

"Ingrain? Roots from my feet? Sounds pretty creepy," he said in a kiddy manner. "But I'm glad to hear that I can do so well so fast," he told me with his cheerful eyes.

"Yeah, but more importantly, just where exactly is your house? I feel like we've been walking for hours," I told him, changing the subject of focus. He put his finger to his chin, putting a thinking look on.

"Well, let's put it this way. My home isn't really _my_ home," he told me, releasing his thoughtful look, turning the next corner.

"What do you mean?" I asked him, following him.

"I mean, I don't live with my parents. My life doesn't involve them."

"So where do you live?" I asked with piqued interest. At this moment I realized that he knew so much about what I was doing, while I had no idea of what kind of person _he _was.

"In my friends' house. They take care of me. My parents… well let's just say they're not too friendly. So I left," he told me, slowing his pace, his expression unchanging from his normal happy one.

"They weren't too friendly? That's why you left them? Does that even seem normal for a kid to leave just because of that?" I asked him, not knowing of how the parent-child system worked. I never knew my real parents, after all. But I knew that I wouldn't leave the Council if they were just a little mean. So why should it be any different with parents? I just couldn't understand.

Dylan laughed at my comment. It wasn't a put-down laugh. It was a kind of playful one. The kind of one you cracked just for the heck of it when someone doesn't understand something and you're just laughing at the whole situation. "It's hard to explain, okay? Let's not talk about it anymore," he told me, stopping and turning his focus to a wooden house.

The house was different from all the others. The other houses in the city were made of granite, marble and rocks. Why was this one made out of wood? It was smaller than the others, and stood out above the rest. Strange, I thought. Is this where Dylan and his friends live? It seemed to be old fashioned, a temple shaped kind with a sign above the doorway spreading the message, "Kusanaga Residence." The house looked one-story one too, with only one floor and an attic.

"This is where you live?" I asked him with concerned eyes. Were he and his friends poor? They couldn't be. No way can you be poor and afford twenty extra large orders of ramen. So why did they live in such a old fashioned house? They could have luxury lives.

"Yeah. I know what you're thinking, it's different from all the rest, right? But it doesn't matter. My friends and I believe in the phrase, 'You should only own what you need, and a few things you want. If not a few, none at all,'" Dylan spoke with a mouth full of pride. "I'm actually glad that this house stands above the rest," he stated.

I guess it was true about what he said. The Council pretty much had a total luxurious life in their own private dimension they created for themselves, but when I was new to the whole thing, I thought, woah, why do they have so much stuff? They don't even use most of it. I didn't say much back to him, but just followed him into the house.

As we walked in, I smelled the scent of fresh tea and cakes. The walls were made of brown bamboo, the furniture all wooden and wicker. "Mizoryu!" Dylan shouted through the living room, his voice bouncing off the walls.

"You're here!" a voice shouted back from another room. In a matter of seconds, a man that seemed just a few years older than Dylan came into the living room with a teapot in one hand and a plate of multicolored pudding cakes in the other. He set both of them down on the wooden table which was low to the ground, and shone a big smile that told both of us that he was happy to see him again.

I began to wonder. Is this what true love was like? Being away for a long time, and coming back to find people happy and excited in your return? Would the Council treat me like this when I came back? I sure hoped so. I watched as Dylan and the complete stranger caught up in a conversation, saying things like, "I've missed you," and "How've you been? You've been gone for a long time."

I had to wait a while until the guy asked me, "And who is this young man?" I finally felt noticed.

"This," Dylan said, side by side with me, leaning down to my height. He gave me a look and turned back to the man. "is Ikimichi Jeremy. Jeremy, this is my friend, Mizoryu-san."

"Nice to meet you, Jeremy-san," he said, shaking my hand. He was a strong man, I felt like my arm was going to break. He seemed old enough to be a father, with his wild mustache and white headband donned like he was a fish monger. His hair cut was short-short-short, and was about three feet wide and six feet high. His hands were dry and cut, like a carpenter's. His eyes seemed old and wise, but his body type had the age of a man in his early twenties. How strange, I thought. I soon began to realize that this "Mizoryu-san" scared me.

"So I assume he's going to be staying with us?" Mizoryu asked, turning back to Dylan. Oh, god no. Even if I wasn't on a quest to find the Minors, I would've been out of there in ten seconds, tops.

"No, actually he's involved with something more important than that," Dylan told him with a nervous laugh and crinkled eyes, his hands motioning In a way of telling Mizoryu that he was wrong.

"Oh? Too bad. Something important like what?" Mizoryu asked in a stricter voice. I felt Dylan's expression tense more, nervous sweat drops coming down the side of his head. He gave another nervous laugh as he replied. He was about to tell him everything when I stopped him and whispered in his ear.

"I think it's best we keep the whole Minors thing a secret, since we don't want White Cloak to find us, you know?" I whispered in the lowest possible voice. He gave me an "okay," and turned back to Mizoryu, who was still waiting for an answer. I wasn't sure what happened next, I think Dylan made some lame excuse about going on a journey and/or vacation and told him he had to get packed up and ready.

We stayed for about twenty more minutes as he took a shower, packed all kinds of necessities and strapped on his light-blue backpack as we were almost out the door until Mizoryu stopped us. "Wait," he said, walking to the wooden table. He took the plate of assorted colored cakes and wrapped them in plastic. Then, a second right after, he gave them to Dylan. "Just to keep you going," he told him as he handed him the plate. Dylan accepted it and put it in his bag. The next thing I knew, we were out of there. And I was thankful.

"Let's go!" Dylan told me, fixing his white hair. I could see he was re-energized in the twenty minutes we had stayed, and ran off down the walkway again. I tried hard to catch up with him, but that guy was fast. I eventually caught him because he slowed down to a jogging pace, and asked me, "You ready to run again? The ship's going to take off in five minutes, and it's pretty far from where we are now."

"What?!" I cried suddenly. Five minutes?! No way! We didn't even have tickets yet! We had to catch that boat no matter what. We couldn't waste another day on Midgarts Islands. "Okay," I told him, knowing that I was unready. But I had to force myself to run as fast as I could. It was either my own breath or the whole mission. And I chose the whole mission. Lives were at stake, as well, I knew. I couldn't fail this mission no matter what. I wouldn't let Dylan down. I wouldn't let _myself_ down.

In seconds he took off like a raging werewolf in the middle of the forest, and somehow, someway I caught up to his speed. We soon found ourselves out of the city and into the sandy grounds. Touching the unsteady sand on the bottom of my sneakers made me remember how I was lost in the desert, and how I felt so helpless and unsteady. I hated the sand and anything that had to do with it. It was like each grain of sand represented every bad memory I had to keep in, even though I didn't know what they were, I knew that there were millions of them waiting to be discovered. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to know them at all. I raced across the slipping sands of pain and bought tickets for the ride. The line wasn't long, and there was about thirty seconds for boarding on the ship left. We ran across the sand again, my feet and soul hating every second of it, but we made it and beat the clock. There was about five seconds left, and the ship attendant held the doors for us.

We took whatever cabin room they had left for us as they reeled in the anchor and began taking off. We had to catch a breather as soon as we boarded the ship, but we still ran to find our cabin. Our room was small, but we had to deal with it.

There was a small circled window that let some light into the dark room, and had two separate beds on opposite sides with one nightstand and three drawers in between. Dylan immediately put down his backpack on the nightstand and rest his whole body on the white-sheeted bed, not caring that his sandy shoes were on the bed as well, relaxing face- up and arms behind his head. His eyes were closed peacefully and I stood in the doorway and watched as a tiny amount of the light from the early afternoon sun spilled upon his face and clothes. I felt like I should relax, too, but I chose not to. I left the room and closed the door and climbed out to the ship's boardwalks around the cabin rooms.

I watched the afternoon sun as it shone brightly in the sky, giving light to the clear, blue waters and the whole ship. The ship, painted white, rocked with the calm ocean, and I saw nothing but blue on both ends of the horizon. Clouds floated freely in the sky, calm and carefree from any problems in this world. I leaned on the railing around the ship that made sure no one would fall off. The cool metal bars on my forearms felt good against my skin. I watched the clouds as they passed by and the ocean as it swung its currents lively in the water.

I began thinking as my stare dazed off into the sunny surroundings. I recalled the old looking young man, caring so much for Dylan and happy to see him back after his trip to the Midscape Marketplace. Offering him tea and cakes as they caught up on the events that happened, as I stood there in the same spot I had walked up to until Dylan stopped, being left alone and unnoticed until someone had to mention me. Would I have someone to treat me like that with so much caring and love when I returned to the Council's dimension? Would I be showered with presents and love when they saw my face again? Or would they not give a rat's bottom as to where I was right now? I began to think that this whole thing was a hoax, set up by Dylan and the rest of the Council only to hurt me in the end. Did they really care about me at all?

I waited for any sign of reply amongst the world. But the only sign of answers I got was the steady rocking of the ocean and the calm winds brushing my hair slightly and delicately as I stared up into the mindless skies. I sighed as I let the sun's rays paint my face with the fake love it provided. That wasn't real love. It was just light that gave you a happy feeling. Nothing more. I thought wild ideas in my mind as I looked for some way to know, to at least get a sign that the Council cared about me. But I came up with nothing until – suddenly it came to me. Suddenly I had an idea on what to do. I would do something I had promised myself to during that night at the hill as I drifted slowly to sleep, the grass comforting my legs with their calm touch. I would contact the Council through the locket, and tell them about the progress I made.

Slowly, I turned my glance to the locket. It was shining brightly in the sun with a speck of reflection off to its side. It glinted wildly in front of my midsection, the golden string trying hard to continue to lift it. I was used to the locket's heaviness now, I realized, and I was glad. Carrying the old thing around would be a drag. I gripped the wide circle in my tiny, childish hands and opened it up. The lid opened with the same grace it had done last time, revealing the screen embedded into the inner circle.

As if it knew what I wanted, across the screen immediately indicated the words: CONTACTING COUNCIL… with the ellipsis repeating themselves in a pattern. The words were bold with a digital kind of green, until a few moments later was I taken to the portrayed face of Shintenmaru. Could I really talk to him through this thing? I thought.

"Yes, Jeremy-san, may I help you?" a voice came through the locket like it was recorded. The picture of Shintenmaru tilted his head and struck a smile, like it was some kind of video. I felt like talking to a screen, which technically I was as I told him about my progress with smiles and crinkled eyes. He didn't seem to be surprised that I found one all ready. All he said in reply was, "Good job, Jeremy." Well, a "Good job, Jeremy," doesn't show me that you care. You could've faked your words for all I know. I told him everything I could have told him, except the way I felt.

He replied with nodded heads and "mhm's" all through the conversation. I eventually became tired of smiling with every word and just waited for a reply. "Dylan even looks like Kakori, almost. Isn't that amazing? I guess the half spirits really did choose their owners like they did as free spirits."

"Yes, I suppose so," he said with a low laugh. It sounded fake, I could tell. It had no heart in it. I wasn't stupid. Did they think I was to fall for that stupid laugh? I asked him how things were over there, and he told me that they were okay. Just okay. I bet great without me there, right? "Well," he continued finally after a long pause. "You're making great progress, Jeremy, keep up the good work," he told me, pushing up his rectangular glasses, reflecting the dim light the dimension gave off. "I guess I'll speak to you later in another progress report, then?"

"All right," I told him, totally tired at heart and desperately trying to find the care in his eyes and expression through a screen.

"Okay, good bye, Jeremy-san, and good luck. Be safe," he told me as the picture on the screen faded and all that was seen was static, with a soft click followed by a slight fizzing of static from the locket. Be safe? I thought. He probably hopes me to be eaten and torn by wolves.

I closed the locket because I knew I had found out enough. They really didn't care, did they? Not at the moment, at least. I put down the locket and slid it through my shirt. I didn't feel like looking at the thing right now. It just made me sick.

I continued to look at the crashing seas as they were cut by the ships pointed front, and the sky as they were being shone on a little lighter now than before. The ship, blank and whitewith the name, "S.S. MARGENTINE" spread across the side front of it seemed to travel slowly along the riding waters.

I heard a door click and open, and felt the presence of someone come out from behind me, not closing the door. From my sense of mind with help from my side vision , I knew who it was. Dylan, finally awoken from his nap. "Jeremy, you all right?" he asked with a concerned look on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told him promptly without looking at him or changing my position. I just kept my stare on the ship's dead name spread across it, meaning nothing but a thought to others.

He didn't seem to sense my loneliness at the time because he replied with, "Well, if you're fine, how about you come in and eat the jelly cakes with me? They're pretty good you know."

I stammered at first, unsure of whether or not I felt like eating, but I decided to go back in anyway. We walked back into the dark room that had a small hole of sunlight sticking through and closed the door. We sat on our beds on the opposite side of the room and ate jelly cakes from the nightstand. They were sweet and sticky, but I couldn't find myself to enjoy them. We sat stilly without talking or speaking to each other. We didn't even sigh. There was dead silence. Only the sounds of munching and chewing of killing two cakes at one time was heard by Dylan while I focused on my one small piece, chewing it at a slow pace and taking soft and tiny bites. I didn't feel too energetic anymore like when I had that rush of energy when I ran for the ship.

Moments later, I found Dylan asleep on his side of the room, asleep on the bed with his back turned to me. Just like I felt everyone else I knew in the world has. I shifted myself and climbed into the sheets, the covers going up to a little below my shoulders. For a while, I looked at the jelly cakes, tiny bits of eaten ones tinting the plate, only one left alone like I was inside, the plastic cover opened and left open like a wound that would never heal.

As I felt my eyelids become heavy with sad, sorrowful thoughts, I began to wonder if anyone I met or will meet would ever come up to me and give me _my _ownplate of jelly cakes.


	8. Chapter 8

As I felt my consciousness drift back into my body, I felt my heavy eyelids lifting lazily, my sight unfocused. I sat up in my bed, the surroundings dark and blue. The sun that had spilled through the small circular window before was gone, and no sign of Dylan's presence was around anywhere.

I got out of bed as I rubbed the sand out of my eyes. I hadn't undressed before I had gone to sleep, making my clothes extra warm and comfortable. I walked up to the door and opened it, hearing the slight wooden creak it made, feeling the early night breeze brush upon my face. My hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled, I walked out to the outside of the slowly rocking ship against the gliding sea to find Dylan on the side of the ship, standing stationary against the moving waves.

The moon shone in its gibbous state high in the sky, the accompanying stars' lights complimenting it. I walked up to Dylan slowly, his green zip-up sweater being shaken slowly by the touch of the early night wind. I continued to walk up to him, straightening out my clothes as best as I could. "Hey," I said in sleepy voice. My eyes were closed again, too tired to open and see the expression on his face. I yawned and continued talking. "What's going on?" I asked him, my eyelids slowly opening to find him right next to me with a serious look on his face

He had his hands tightly locked on the railing of the ship, clasping it too hard for comfort and his back slanted and his expression staring out into space. "Nothing," he told me in a blank voice. I knew immediately he was bluffing.

"No, really, tell me. What's going on?" I asked, eager to find out why and how much he and changed over the past few hours when I was asleep.

"It's just, I realized," he told me, relaxing his hold a bit on the metal railing of the ship. "What if we were to go searching for another Minor? Another Minor just like me who could be in danger just like I was?" he asked me. I was shocked by the sudden bring-up of the subject. After my second's worth of a shock I began to consider his question. And to be truthful, I really didn't know the answer. "If they were in trouble and had their powers unstable, totally confused about who they were anymore, and they were attacked by someone way stronger than who attacked me, who would help them out? Who could beat those people after him or her or whoever it may be?"

I sighed. I leaned against the cold, metallic railing alongside him, both expressions of ours pondered in thought. "I really don't know," I told him, staring back to the stars, remembering the thoughts that flew in my mind during the early afternoon. Still no sign of anyone caring, I realized.

"What if that next person after me won't be so lucky? What if that person actually…dies?" he turned to me, expression full of concern, but this time it wasn't concern for me. It was concern for the future.

"Listen," I told him, listening to the calm rush of the sea. "I know that, if we work together, we can make things happen. And don't worry. If we really need that much of a desperate help, we can just call the council through my locket," I told him, feeling my shirt for the protruding shape of the large, golden antique.

"And what if there's not enough time?!" he told me seriously, his eyes slowly framed with wetness. His look made me feel guilty. I couldn't protect him, I knew that much. So who would? He was right. I couldn't answer his questions he wanted to know the answers to, and could do nothing but sigh.

His stare wandered off into the deep, black-blue sea, the crinkling wonders brushing on the sides of the ship slowly and steadily, like our own private tides, trying to reach us desperately to tell us something. "That's why, I've tried to become better at this," he told me, his stare still deep into the ocean, lost. "I've been trying to control my powers better so I could protect the next Minor, who would also help me defend the next. That's why I've been out here for six straight hours, trying to learn the basics, trying to become one with something I'm totally unfamiliar with."

His grip on the railing tightened again and my lean against the railings became softer. "Let me ask you something," I asked, my mind filled with curiosity. "Why? Why do you care about someone so much, when you haven't even met them yet? Aside from it being our task, you seem to really care about these people as people. Why?"

"Why?" he asked me while turning his stare at me, as if I was asking him a silly question. "Because, those other eleven teenagers out there, they've just begun their lives. Why should they die so early, when they've barely had a chance to live? It makes no sense if you ask me. I don't know why it doesn't make sense to you, though," he said, turning away from me again, pacing down the ship's walk, going to the back.

I followed him with ease, still many thoughts running through my mind. "And also, who's going to protect you? You have power, but you don't even know how to use them, or what it is. So who's going to help you when you're in trouble?" he asked me, still walking towards the back of the ship.

His words warmed and surprised me at the same time. Okay, so at least there was one person I knew who cared about me, I guess. I felt less lonely all of a sudden and felt like hugging the guy tight. But I restrained myself from doing so, since I knew that I was just hyped up at the moment, and that he would turn completely freaked if I did. My thoughts about this whole thing were wrong after all, I realized. I paced with him down the ship walk, around the inner cabins until we finally reached the back. "So, how did the practice go?" I asked him, curious to see how much progress he's made.

"You tell me," he told me, giving me a look hinted with excitement. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he faced back at the sea that crept farther away from us. The fresh, fish stained air was thick by now, and I waited until I saw green energy flowing from his hands. So he's learned to manipulate, I saw. Impressive for a two day period, I thought, watching the green energy flow from his palm and fingers wildly like they were set on fire.

When he reopened his eyes, I saw that they were glowing slightly with a green color, and that they were expressionless like he was a robot. He crossed his arms against his chest, and moved his arms to the front, to the outside of the railing, and above the quiet waves. His hands, set on what looked like green fire gave off a faint light into the night sky, like the weakest lighthouse imagined.

I began to wonder what he was trying to do. What technique could be used in the sea? I thought with interest. "Look," he told me, his eyes still glinting with light.

I faced forward and turned to the sea. What was he about to do? In only a few more moments after my thought did I see one rising vine, covered with thorn spikes and the darkest green due to the black night and dark waters. It waved and followed the ship slowly, water dripping from the top of it to the bottom where it rejoined the sea currents. It was soon followed by two more vines, then three, and then five, until about twenty of them were following the ship at once, crawling towards us like long, drunk snakes.

As more of the vines came up to follow us, I noticed the green energy on his hands spread to his wrist and grow stronger in amount. Almost his whole forearm was completely covered in it until he let go, the power slowly fading away from his arms, his eyes closing, and reopening to their normal green colored state. Even if his original eye color was like that, the green hints in his eyes when he was controlling the vines from underground seemed neon, like a store's window sign. He took another deep breath, breathing the ocean air into his lungs and asked, "So, how was that?"

It wasn't technically amazing. He could summon his powers but couldn't manipulate as well as an expert like Kakori and couldn't use them in a technique as good as Kakori, either. But I had to give him credit. He progressed well by only using sheer motivation and the information I had told him. "Good," I said, "for two days."

I could see his eyes tinted with disappointment. "Hey, don't worry about it. You'll get better along the way. You can't expect to become an expert in six hours can you?" I told him, cheering him up somewhat. At least that's what it looked like from his expression.

"I guess," he told me, stuffing his hands nervously into his sweater pockets.

"Let me ask you one more thing," I told him, holding the metal rails by my right forearm, another curious thought desperately wanting to be answered in my mind.

"Yeah?" he asked with wide, considerate eyes, glowing in the night scene like the stars in the blackish blue sky.

"What made you realize that you had to become stronger in order to protect the future Minors and me? Did the idea just come into your mind in a flash?" I asked him finally, waiting patiently for the answer with the most honest look I've had in years.

The look in his eyes changed. He sighed. "You're probably going to get all tensed up after I tell you this, but…"

"Go on. Tell me, I won't care," I told him, wondering what the reason could be, unsure of whether my words were true to myself or not.

"All right. While you were sleeping, something woke me up. It was a beeping, and it was coming from your side of the room." Uh-oh I thought, my mind going into a slow paced panic. "So I went to see what it was, and all I saw was a red dot blinking over and over again in unison with what sounded like a fire alarm." He shifted his feet and started tapping the wooden floor of the outside ship with it. It made an echoing _click-click-click _nose. He was obviously nervous about what he was going to tell me. So he didn't buy my excuse either about not caring whatever it might be that he would say, I realized. "I suspected it was your locket, so I took it out of your shirt while you were still sleeping and opened it."

"No!" I told him, feeling my locket hot against my midsection, the panic in my blood rising. The coolness of the early night had calmed the excess warmness of my clothes when I had woken up, but the locket was still hot and cozy against my skin, underneath my shirt. I caressed it lightly, feeling its features from underneath my white-stripe long sleeve shirt.

"Yeah… I didn't know what it meant when I opened it, but I had a good idea. It had a part of a twelve-piece chart glowing with black light."

"No! No, no, no!" I yelled, furious. I can't believe how much time I wasted! I quickly took out the heavy locket from underneath my clothes, feeling its warm gold on the outside with my cool touch. It felt so hot and comfortable in my hands as I opened it up, the lid still rising with its everlasting grace I wished at the moment would go faster. The screen still had that chart with a black piece of it blinking like the red garnet did on the front of the lid when it was beeping wildly. I couldn't believe I didn't hear it in my sleep! I felt so stressed and panicky as the chart went away and took me to a map, showing me a different kind than that of last time.

This blinking red dot was near the coast like last time, but to the north. We were at sea, and the town his power was last recorded (about four hours ago) was a town up north of the town the ship would dock.

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked me, leaning down to me and looking at the map on the circular screen.

"No I'm not okay! What if this guy is dead? I can't lose one of the Minors! What if they found this person because the Minor used its power and was able to track the Minor down and successfully kill him?" I whined in an annoyed voice.

"It's okay, calm down," Dylan told me, trying to comfort me.

"No it's not!! The town is just too far away from here!" I told him in the most whiniest voice I've ever heard.

"So?" he said, standing back up, facing me with crinkled eyebrows, one raised and one bent down.

"What do you mean 'so'? Are you crazy? We won't make it there in time!" I told him furiously.

"So… just get the Council to teleport us there," he told me in an obvious voice.

I immediately felt stupid. I had forgotten that Shintenmaru offered to teleport us anywhere depending on how far it was. And this was an emergency, so we had to get there fast. I gulped down my panic to let in relief, and some embarrassment for acting so immature suddenly.

I took notice back to the locket again, still slowly cooling down from its last state of warmth underneath my shirt. I focused on what I wanted to see, just like last time, and it took me there obediently. It was like Minoa, always reading your mind when you're not noticing. It took me to the static-covered screen again and in a few seconds I saw Shintenmaru answer my call through the video again. "May I be of assistance, Jeremy?" he asked.

I explained the entire situation to him, which didn't take long, and Shintenmaru listened to each piece cooperatively, nodding his head now and then. He also got a chance to actually see Dylan, who was glad to finally meet someone from the Council. Anyway, he told us to "jump in" when the portal came out. Then he left us alone with the static screen again, fizzing loudly among the quiet seas. I closed the lid of the locket before it could do any more sound polluting and put it back into my shirt. Now the metal was cold to my body, cooling it to some degree.

We waited about five minutes to see what would happen, but nothing came. We were about to give up until a large vortex suddenly opened out of nowhere, moving alone with the slow ship and right next to it above the ocean like an companion.

"So, what now?" Dylan asked, sounding confused, placing his hands on the knees of his jeans and staring at the portal with wondrous eyes.

"I guess we 'jump in,'" I told him, giving him a short glance and quickly turning back to the portal. I jumped in first, putting my feet on the metal railing of the ship, careful not to fall off and into the ocean, and took off. For a moment I felt free, nothing holding me up in the oceanic air, but started to feel chained down again as I was sucked into the portal, white light consuming me right after I entered the purple and green swirling wonder.

I was soon followed by Dylan's presence in the possessive white light. We floated in "midair" if you could call it that, our eyes squinted only to allow vision and our bodies slowly falling down like we were on the moon. Soon, the white light became brighter, and we were totally lost.

Moments later, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but rocks and dust, the clouds heavy and dark with thunder and lightning flashing upon the early night sky. No stars could be seen, and no houses or anything either. Where the heck were we? I thought.

Dylan came up from behind me and said, "Where are we?" like he was repeating my thoughts. The area was flat and barren, and just to be sure, I checked the monitor on the locket to see where we were compared to where the last record of the Minor was last seen. The golden antique told me that the Minor last used his powers in Jagrock Town, and that we were in the West Valley of Jagrock. Why did the portal take us here? More importantly, where was the Minor now?

As if answering my question, Dylan tapped my shoulder and pointed to the north. "Look over there!" he cried. I looked towards the direction he was pointing, and found dirt smoke rising from some distance far away. Lightning crashed and rang in the sky above as drizzles of rain came down upon us. Just what was going on? What was that smoke?


	9. Chapter 9

The black smoke continued to pool against the stormy sky far away into the distance like a spirit uprising from the jagged cracks of the earth. Dylan and I watched with a hint of fear and wonder to what it was. I saw Dylan's eyes sparkle in confidence, ready just in case if it involved the Minor.

In the distance, strangely, we saw two figures, two tiny little dots far away fighting each other and dodging each other's physical attacks while leaping away like frogs. One of them, that was more to the left wasn't dodging them very well, though. He dodged a few attacks but got hit multiple times as well. At the sight, Dylan shifted his feet. I could see he was ready to do something about it. But what could he do? He wasn't that experienced at using his powers yet. I was sure he knew that, but confidence and bravery shone in his eyes anyway. He had that something I was missing. Guts.

PoVS

I coughed out another pool of blood into the black smoke. This guy was killing me. His red spiky hair with a hanging streak coming from the front swung wildly as he took me out, blow after blow. Why was he hurting me so much? I thought as he punched me again in the stomach. I knelt down now, clutching my midsection as pain was searing through it. My eyes crinkled in pain and my mouth gave an exasperated groan. I tried to get away from his punches and kicks with all my effort, but I failed all of them. Just who is this guy and what's the big idea for beating me up so suddenly?

I've been trying to get away from him ever since back in Jagrock. I've tried to run away from him and out to the plains but he still caught up with me. I'm not going to die just yet, I thought, opening one eye in pain, still clutching my midsection. I felt lines of sweat coming down from my black spiky hair as the person who claimed himself "Eruption" gave me a kick to the chest, knocking me three feet away.

I landed in the dust, my back sore and blood streaking from the corners of my lips. Fight marks were covered all of my body and I desperately tried to lift myself back up. But my limbs were too sore. My skin was all fried and burnt from those damned lava attacks he keeps making.

"Give up yet? You stupid asshole," he went up to me, staring at me with his evil, green eyes, picking me up by my white shirt underneath my open black one. I could do nothing but be controlled by his grip, no matter how much I resisted.

I didn't feel like talking to him, either, I just gave him a hard stare. He became angry and scowled at the look I was giving him. He took me by my shirt tighter and threw me to about five feet until I began rolling wildly in the dust of rocks. I tried to breathe and catch my breath desperately but all I could take in during my short breathers was volcanic ash. That was a hell of a throw back there, I thought, shifting my right leg from my position on the floor. Where does he get all this strength from?

I felt his presence close in on me, the sight from the corners of my eyes blurring. Damn it, what was wrong with this day?

"Die all ready, damn it!" he came up to me and yelled crazily standing up while I was down. I saw his right hand tightly locked into a fist, volcanic energy pouring from it. This is going to hurt a hell lot, I thought as I gave him the same old cold stare. He pulled the fist into the air and presented it above my body, and pummeled it right into my ribs. I heard a cracking of bones in my body as the ground beneath me made a huge hole due to the pressure put on by the fist. Rocks arose, popping up from beneath my body, breaking under pressure. I felt the skin on my chest burning and tried to hold my screams inside, biting my bottom lip. Dust arose from the huge dent in the ground, and I was soon thrust out of the cloud of dust by another kick from that volcanic pain.

My body went spinning in the air as I felt like suffocating in the ash being put in the air. The clouds above roared with lightning, ready to downpour on us any moment as I struggled to my feet helplessly, breathing hard, my ribs hurting every time I did so. "Why?" I asked him with an open mouth and choked voice, the sound barely escaping my broken ribcage.

"Why?" he said, walking out from the smoke and coming towards me again. "Don't joke around, I'm only following orders," he said, giving me a cold look with his cat-like green eyes.

"Your orders? What the hell?" I yelled at him furiously, struggling the words out of my broken bones. I held my chest tightly now, tilting and almost falling on my back. I still tried to take deep breaths, but no air seemed to come in.

He laughed in my face. "There's nothing to say anymore," he told me in a smirking manner. "Just die and get it over with." He was two feet away from me when he stuck his arm out to my direction as it turned from a normal human arm to a huge, lava-type limb. He threw his molten arm at me, the attack stretching the whole two yards between us, taking me by my chest which still seared with pain all over and crashed with me about ten yards away into the solid ground. With more pressure applied to my body, I felt more bones cracking. I couldn't move now. I yelled in pain as I coughed blood into the air, which landed back to the floor beside my head, making a pool of red beside me. I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore. It was too hard. I couldn't move anymore. I was too weak. I couldn't try running anymore. I was too dead.

PoVS

More smoke was applied to the air as the cloud of volcanic ash from far away before was creeping closer into our direction. I couldn't see much of the two figures anymore, just smoke. But the last thing I saw was one of the two guys being pummeled into the ground twice, and the second time was by something totally not normal. I looked to Jeremy to see his reaction. He was in total shock, his eyes wide with horror. It's my turn, I thought, getting my confidence and mind ready for battle.

I fixed my headband, pulling on the knot from the back, tapping the sun icon on it for good luck. I leaned forward, and took off. I left Jeremy behind, but it was better off that way. I didn't want him getting hurt. As I ran, my heart continued to pump my confidence through my blood, the happiness of having the chance to prove myself worthy a Minor finally come. I left dust behind me, making Jeremy cough a little.

"Where are you going?" he yelled to me in surprise.

"Just stay back there! It'll be safer that way!" I told him, turning my glance back but not my running pace.

"But what about you?" he asked me with a worried look.

"I'll be fine! Just stay there!" I yelled back, turning over to my direction again. I headed for the cloud of dust that was still settling upon the ground. It'll take me too long to reach it just by running, I thought. I'll need a faster way there.

I hoped Jeremy was watching as I put on a battle face and poured as much energy as I could into my feet which were running wildly as fast as they could. I heard the hum of the green energy that outlined them and felt some sticking to the ground after each step like a footprint. I jumped in the air as high as I could; attempting something I never thought I would ever do in my lifetime.

I felt like my body was hovering in the air about five feet up. That's the highest I've ever jumped! I felt free in the air, but waited for what I had been trying to do all along. The glowing in my feet stopped, and I heard rumbling in the ground beneath me. In a matter of seconds, a thick vine emerged from the floor, cracking a hole in the ground at its presence. Yes! It worked!

The vine took me by my right ankle, and I prepared to endure myself. Okay, here we go, I thought. I closed my eyes slowly and focused in midair, the vine's hold tight and steady. Then I controlled the vine's position, forcing it to swing me around.

The vine changed its direction obediently, the one vine beginning to swing wildly in a clockwise manner. I was being spun like pizza dough at a dangerously high velocity. Only being kept up in the air by a vine tied to my ankle, my body swinging like a tornado, my clothes fluttering wildly in midair, I felt like I was about to throw up. But something was more important than that. The vine continued to swing me around for about ten more seconds and threw me towards the direction I had been running towards.

The vines let go of their hold, and I was flying in the air like a missile, the dust and air rushing past me like a hurricane all together. I felt the stomach acids in my body begin to churn as I held it back in my mouth. Time to make a change, I thought as I dove into the large cloud of dust, my eyes dirty and tinted with the unclean particles.

I entered the cloud of dust headfirst, my body flying wildly. I landed on the floor with forceful energy, and gaining more energy in my body, I took off again, jumping from the surface and towards a figure standing straight up silhouetted against the smoke like he had no injuries. That would obviously be the attacker, I thought. He barely noticed my presence. Perfect timing, I thought, still in midair. Gravity began to pull me back down and I got into position. I was going to spin drop kick him.

Just as I was about to crash into the person's silhouette, I twisted my body, turning it around and putting my right leg out to make a hard kick against the person standing. My attack made impact successfully, hitting the guy right in the bottom right part of his ribs, blowing the dust away from us because of the huge blow it made. I began to clearly see his face, and he began to clearly see mine.

His eyes green and his hair spiky with a streak of it coming from the front, just like Hanabikai's, the figure widened his stare in surprise. Direct hit, I thought. The contact of my attack was so hard it blew him away about five yards. I landed back down to the floor on my feet as I watched him fly straight back, closer to the source of that cloud of ash. I took in a deep breath despite the rock dust and ash around me, preparing myself for whatever he might do as a counter attack.

The dust clouds began to clear, giving way for the real dangerous clouds in the sky, thundering and shattering the air with its violent clashes. The person I had hit began to stand up again, fixing himself from the sudden attack I had given him. He stumbled forward, and repaired his stance back up, straight forward.

"You're dead…" I heard him whisper in a scratchy voice. He gave me a cold look with his green emerald eyes as he threw some kind of lava looking fist at me. I was surprised at first to see such an attack, but I ducked out of the way as it flew past me, colliding with the solid ground a few feet behind me. It created a huge dust cloud behind my position while he was running towards me, only a few feet away with as fast of a footwork as I have.

I let the confidence pour out into my arms and let the green energy take over my hands. I called upon more raging vines this time, about four. They raced out from beneath the ground like wild tentacles, whipping around the air, preparing to attack. "Here!" I grunted, swinging my left arm to the up-right, the vines following that direction.

The wild ropes began to come after this guy one after another, ducking to his height. The first one tried to attack him head on, and he moved out of the way, continuing his run as the vine made friction with the ground, creating more dust. I made another two strike him head on with a cross motion, trying to confuse him. I thought it was actually going to hit him but he just jumped in the air, letting the vines glide beneath his feet by just a few inches. In midair, he "chopped" the vines underneath his feet with his palm, and succeeded as you saw them melting with lava from the cuts. Both of them fell limp to the ground, leaving me with only one shot left.

"Try better than that. You suck at this," he told me, closing in on me.

"Oh yeah?" I told him, giving him a showy smirk. I swung my arm in his direction, making the last, and final vine swing wildly in front of me like the longest whip in the world. It was about ten feet long, and circled in the air crazily like a hula hoop. The long, lengthy, rope-like vine stretched in the air, its racing body pure green. I made it circle in the air like a drill would, and soon it became a thick, raw, spiral shield in front of me. As more of the vine came out like a tape measure from the ground, it thrust itself forward, making a drill-like plant tornado at the confident guy who was still running.

"That's nothing!" he said, getting his fist ready for a punch. But as I saw him pull back his fist, I saw that it became something more than skin. It wasn't even lava. It was made of black, charcoal like rock with tiny streams of magma coming from it. This rock covered his whole right forearm which he used to thrust right in the middle of my spinning vine defense.

As I applied more of my energy, focusing it all to my hands, he seemed to apply more as well, pushing his attack more forward. Both of our attacks cancelled out, my spiral vines melting and his volcanic arm cooling.

His still remained at its form, and he had stopped coming at me. "Who the hell are you? Another one of those damned Half-Councils?" he asked me, tilting his head upward, and his freezing stare looking down on me.

"It's Minors, and what's it to you, you freak?" I asked him in a ready position, looking at his huge hand covered with black rock and lava compared to his other arm, still normal by his side.

"I'm the freak?" he laughed, as if it were some big joke. "Look who's talking. Just die all ready," he said, still with a slight chuckle.

"You die first," I told him, clenching my fist tightly. Green energy surrounded my fist like fire again, raging like a hell's fire. He gave me the coldest most put-down look I've ever seen. I gave him a cold look back; just like one he always seemed to give me. I had just met the guy and didn't even know his name, but I immediately didn't like him one bit.

"You talk big for a weakling," he told me, tightening the expression on his face, the rocky arm heating up. He pulled back his arm again, and opened his wide hands as big as he could. Heat energy and lava became focused into his cragged rock palm, the flames coming from it like a miniature sun.

"Says you," I told him, getting more plants ready underground.

He didn't shoot another comment back. He just gave me a dirty look and shot the fireball in my direction. It made a flaming streak as he hurled it. As soon as I saw it coming, I pulled out as many vines as it could and "sewed" them together, creating another great spiral defense with them. They spun wildly into each other in unison, getting as many vines as it could to participate. While the plant wheel was spinning, I ran back into the clouds of smoke behind me. I had to think about what to do next.

In the cloud of ash, smoke, and dust, I saw someone lying on the floor. His eyes were half open, tired and weak. Blood was streaking from his bottom lip and other various body parts including his arms and chest. He wore a black shirt over a white one, his hair spiked up and black like a raven's proud chest. He was about my age and got seriously beat up. Dust circled him but I saw him as clearly as I needed to. That's the Minor, I realized. His arms, only covered by short sleeves from his black open shirt were releasing white smoke into the air, heat cooling off of him. He probably got attacked by lava a lot, I thought, thinking of the burn marks that could be all over his body.

He stared at me blankly, his mouth shaped in a way of despair, as if beckoning me to help him from his current state. But what could I do? I picked him up, putting his arms around my shoulders like I did with Jeremy before, but unlike Jeremy, he groaned in pain. "What's wrong?" I asked him, examining his body for any marks or scars. His ribs are broken, I realized, seeing a really dent on his chest that didn't look the least bit normal. And a few bones on his spine are pretty messed up too. He could barely stand up by himself. Amazing. That's what the lava guy could do? No way… how would I last against him?

PoVS

The stranger picked me up and put my arm around his shoulders, my body still sore and broken from the fight I so desperately tried to put up. I guess I was never much of a fighter. I was more of a smart person, and more serious. I wouldn't hurt anyone for revenge or anything like that. Plus I wouldn't know how to hurt anyone anyway. But who was this guy, right by my side, with these caring eyes trying to help me, with that look in his eyes wondering what to do? And those vines he created back there. Was he just like me? With weird powers he just discovered and could barely use, or was he just like that other guy back there, Eruption, who was after my life for no reason I know of?

I couldn't talk to him, since my body was too weak to even make much of a voice, but had so many questions to ask him. He was obviously on my side. But what now? Eruption would come back for us. And he'll be as angry as ever.

Just as I finished my thoughts, I saw ash clear and saw him coming straight at us. The stranger had a concerned look in his eyes, worrying for me. Why did he care about me so much? I didn't even know him. Most people I knew would just leave me here to rot and die.

"So I see you've found your fellow 'Minor'," he said, brushing the streak of hair away from his face. Minor? What's a Minor? What the hell was this guy talking about?

"So he is a Minor, too, after all. This isn't just some random fight," the stranger told him, still holding my broken body up. I watched weakly as both of them gave cold, hard stares at each other, ready to kill one another at any moment.

Just what was going to happen? I thought, trying the best I could to look back and forth, seeing their hard stares given to each other.

This guy helping me out was obviously way stronger than I was. I could barely protect myself from a few of his moves, and couldn't fight back, but he did what I wanted to do. Really knock Eruption out like Eruption had done to me before.

"Of course it's a fight that involved a Minor. I told you. It's my job to kill people like him. People like you," Eruption said with a mean glare. He had half of his body covered in a cloud of smoke, but when he came out, I saw that both his arms were covered in charcoal and streams of lava. Even up to his bicep and his shoulders, they were cragged and uneven. Oh, god. What was going to happen now?


	10. Chapter 10

"Sir?" the Third-Ranker said nervously again, looking desperate for the answer to his question.

This person keeps bothering me, asking me the same question over and over again, the white clothed man said in the dark room underground, the sewer waters pooling the whole room in its bacterial form. He continually interrupts my Uniting Process… damned underachiever, he thought, staring right at the person many yards away from him in the plaster-made room underneath the sewers, his hood veiling his identity. "Mijai," he began to tell the Third-Ranker. Third-Rankers were the least skilled people on the job he put everyone on. They were the dumbest, least talented, and most incompetent fools I've ever met, the cloaked man said. "I told you once, I'm telling you again," he told him again.

He paced through the dark bacterial waters, away from the Third-Ranker who was listening in the best effort he could, which wasn't much. "I am not 'using' Walter at the moment because the fact that I had learning a power recently and there is a five step process to absorbing or learning a new skill in the arts. There is absorbing, sealing, embracing, uniting, and calming. Once I finish these five, then I will be ready for a new one. Walter," he named the new person to the group, who had no idea what he was in store for. His thirst for power will drive him to his death, the white cloaked man thought.

Drops of sewer water dripped from the ceiling, giving a tiny _drip drip_ every now and then in the conversation, when the Third-Ranker was thinking hard.

"Oh, okay," he said finally, understanding the concept.

"Leave," the white hooded being told the weak man promptly, impatient for his idiocy. The Third-Ranker put a hurt face on and returned to the shadows, obeying orders and going back to above the ground.

The cloaked man sighed. Why did he keep such idiots like him helping him? They didn't even deserve the power. They're such underachievers. They're so useless…

He began walking towards the end of the room and to the labyrinth-like corridors. As he wondered how Eruption was doing with the Shadow Half Spirit, he walked more into the shadows, thinking happy thoughts on when he tastes the feel of power again. After this sickening Uniting Process today and Calming process tomorrow, I'll finally get one step closer to getting rid of the damned Council…he thought mischievously. I'll finally get the taste of a Half-Spirit.

PoVS

At the scene, Eruption and I continued to give each other long stares, all the while with his volcanic armor growing throughout his own body and readiness pumping through mine. We continued to stare for another set of moments, the wind blowing softly sometimes at his read line of hair, and whistling coldly against my fluttering sweater.

"What's wrong?" I finally asked him, breaking the silence, the Minor still next to my body watching every aspect of the battle. "Can't attack 'cause you're scared?" I told him, knowing the answer all ready, trying to provoke him. I wanted to get this battle over with soon.

He scoffed in my face loudly, his voice turning a little shaky as volcanic rocks covered his throat and cheeks. "As if," he told me in a scratchy voice, rasping his words like an old record. As if on cue, he pulled back his huge, oversized arm and got ready to punch me.

I tried predicting his moves, dodging his punches with ducks and tilts. As I tilted my body backwards, dodging a direct hit that would've made contact, I let go of my hold on the Minor. He couldn't support himself, and shouldn't be in an area like this. I had to get him out.

As I pulled my body back to a normal stance from tilting backwards, I sent long and thick vines to save the Minor with broken bones, millions of them working at the same time, lifting him in the air and towards Jeremy-san so he could find out what to do about his condition.

As the Minor was taken away by the cooperative vines, being taken into the fog of ash and dust, watching us in the corners of his eyes, I continued to dodge the attacks Eruption was making desperately. How was I going to beat some guy in a volcanic armor? I thought. I didn't know. But I had to find out fast.

He attempted one more hit to my head, but I ducked backwards again, ducking really low this time. I was about to lose my balance until Eruption suddenly changed his attack's position, creating the false alarm he wanted for me to fall for, punching me in the face as I was trying to get my balance back together. I felt the hard rock pummel against my jaw, my body flying through the fogs and fogs of pollution and dust as I flew backward, trying to get my feet on the floor. I succeeded, dirt from the friction of my feet on the floor rising in the sky as I stopped moving and looked back into where Eruption should be.

Dust covered my sight greatly; it was the only thing I would see for miles. "Magnitude!" I heard the raspy voice of Eruption yell from within the smoke. In a matter of seconds I saw red glows approaching in the smoke, zooming from the clouds and into my range of sight, the ground in front of me breaking with lava surging through beneath the rocks. The attack shone brightly against the crags and pieces of the ruined floor, which lay in the lava like a debris in an ocean of glowing red. The attack stopped a few feet in front of me, and I felt lucky I wasn't hurt. But I had no idea what would happen next.

The smoke cleared and gave way for more smoke coming from the bubbling lava shining their bright glow in my face and eyes, providing some light in the dark area.

I got ready for whatever would come next, preparing for countering his attack with a couple of vines from behind me. The vines roared out of their places underground, spreading pebbles from their entrance hole around like flying ruins.

As the vines raced into the clouds blocking my sight, they cleared them away from each other, their gathering speed so high it was almost blinding. I could finally see where my attack was going. And I was right before. Eruption was coming towards us. My vines stretched toward him as he ran across the unstable ground covered in lava streams with ease, the brightness of the lava shining upon his volcanic arms and legs.

My first few vines tried to get him headfirst but he seemed to disappear out of sight and reappear right next to them. His speed was increasing, and I didn't know how to beat that. I had to try a different trick.

I sent my longest vine left towards him, curving its way into his range. It tied around his ankle, stopping his run towards me and carried him in the air like I made the vines do to me earlier. The vine's grasp made him dangle in the air, his right leg straight up helplessly in the volcanic air. Or so I thought.

In a matter of seconds, I heard hissing from his direction. The part of the vine that wrapped around his ankle was smoking steam into the air. Not good, I thought. Then the vine began to glow bright red just like the lava and melted away, the whole thing falling limply in the ground as the hold was released on Eruption, who landed back on the ground on his feet. He closed in for another set of physical attacks, and I blocked them all as best I could. I was happy I took basic fighting skill training when I was a kid. I'd never thought I'd have to use them, but this puts a whole new use to training as a kid.

Eruption gave me hard blows to the arms and chest, and I let my forearms block all of his tries successfully, which burned my skin on the inside from the hot, lava infested punches. Basically, I was kind of stationary on the ground while he tried to find multiple openings, but his tries all failed. He finally tried punching me the hardest in my ribs, but I blocked with my right forearm. I could feel the skin begin under my sweater sleeves hiss with the heat, melting as I forced back the energy from the punch.

As soon as I knocked his hand out of the way, I tried to take him by surprise, my whole body spinning on stance and making a counter kick to his chest, which was one of few parts uncovered by volcanic armor. My kick sent him flying along with wisps of dust, and the molten ground beneath him was about to impact on him headfirst until I had a better idea.

I sent more vines from separate sides of the rocky area that wasn't covered by any lava attacks yet. Millions came out, more than I expected. They all wrapped around his legs tightly together, and constricted his arms spread out, his body as well wrapped into the blanket of grey, thorny vines. I made the scene unexpectedly look like a crucifixion, my victim's head bowing.

Time to break through that armor, I thought, commanding more pressure on his rocky, unstable armor. As the vines wrapped around tighter like snakes, their roots set in far corners of the rocky plains, covered by the floating clouds of dust sneaking around the floor, his body seemed to glow red in unison, his head still bowed, his red hair uncovered by any armor, that streak going down like a dangling leaf on a tree during the fall.

Not good, I thought, trying to break through the armor faster. I wasn't making any progress. The vines' thorns were as sharp as blades, so how come they couldn't break through that thing he was hiding behind? His body continued to glow red like the lava below him, the vines surrounding his body like a coffin, and in a matter of seconds, the whole seen exploded with red sparks and heat. It made a loud explosion sound as sparks flew everywhere and fire was spread throughout the long-range area, the bright smoke and flames crawling closer to me.

Had my vines succeeded? I wondered as I tried to look into the calming smoke. The flames in the smoke were so big, it made the whole seen glow red everywhere. I couldn't see a thing. The light, hot air warmed my face as I tried to look for any opening in the smoke for me to find out what happened.

In the deep distance of the large cloud, I saw a running figure in the flames and ash, his pace towards me. Crap! I thought. My attack didn't work. He came at me with lightning speed and starting attacking me crazily with punches and kicks, flying in the air above my head and behind me with a kind of roulette pattern in his impact blows. Half of his face was covered in volcanic rock, and the rest of his body except a bit of his back and stomach were covered too. Bits and pieces of the charcoal fell to the ground as he shifted his body continuously.

I didn't know how much long I could continue fighting like this, only blocking with my slowly melting skin in this hot dust and dirty clouds, the lightning traveling in the clouds above us giving their battle cry, wanting to participate too.

We continued pummeling each other with attacks until I found an opening and tried punching him in the chest, expecting him to go flying again, but nothing happened. He just got knocked back a little, maybe three centimeters. The volcanic armor spread through his chest absorbed the power I sent through with my punch, the hot streams of lava burning my fingers' skin. I had to immediately take my fist back since my fingers began smoking and hissing in sharp, infernal pain.

Seeming to be bigger and taller than me now, Eruption took my arm I had used to try and punch him with his oversized grip, and swung me wildly like a merry-go-round. As he continually held me in his grasp, swinging me, I felt my green sweater sleeve and the skin under it heat up and get burnt and start to smoke like they had been scalded with the hottest water in the world. He swung me faster and faster in a clockwise motion until he seemed tired of it and threw me away back into the field of broken grounds in the rivers of lava, making me high in the air above it all, throwing me away like I was some kind of toy. I was knocked out of the clouds of dust and looked at what seemed to be the glowing red patch and rocks down below.

As I felt myself fall back down with increasing speed, I felt all the stomach fluids in my body begin to rise to my throat, wanting to churn and hurl out. I swallowed it hard back down as I fell on my feet with a huge load of pressure, trying to balance myself on two unstable rocks floating in the lava underneath, my arm sore and hot and sweater sleeve burnt to an ash black.

I coughed out a cloud of ash and dust as I stood upon the glowing river, the light spilling upon my clothes and every aspect of my body, making me feel like I was on holy but dangerous grounds. I couldn't move as well as regular ground in this area, I knew because the lava bubbled and gurgled underneath; wanting something to touch and burn eagerly, like they were beckoning me to just put my foot in it.

Soon I found Eruption coming after me again, his whole body now covered in the volcanic rock. His face was painted with streams of glowing red, remodeled into a spiked up star shape to the sides, his eyes still green as seen from underneath his mask. He looked like some kind of wolf or lion standing on his two feet, even his nose turned into a snout like appearance. Was this guy still the same guy beneath his costume? Just what was going on with that stupid armor of his?

He continued with the same moves as always, roaring with every kick, yelling with every punch and crying with every flip in the air. I didn't want to move, scared of the fact that my foot might step into a pool of lava, and I wouldn't see it ever again if that happened. So I just stood there, blocking attacks the best I could, his upward and downward punches. He gave a really strong downwards punch, which I managed to block with both arms, but my body sinking slightly into the lava below, the bubbling reds jumping wildly and hungrily, melting holes into my jeans and burn marks onto my shoes.

As I felt the fist slowly being lifted off of my body, I tried to keep my balance the best I could on the two rocks. How would I get out of this place? I couldn't stay here forever. I tried to think of some kind of plan as he put in more dramatic punches, all of them being blocked. He didn't seem to care about his poor accuracy; he was just using me as a punch doll. If I kept this up, I was going to die, I thought, both my right and left arms burned and smoking wildly.

As I was slowly pummeled into the ground, ideas rained through my mind. I'm not going to give up on this now. If I couldn't beat him, then who could I beat? I gave a look in his eye, and he looked back at me with crazy, beastly eyes. My back bent and eyes closed to endure every blow he gave me, I continued to think. I had to defend that Minor. I had to save him and myself, and Jeremy. Or else what am I here for? I'm not going to let my life melt away like the rocks I was standing on. Was I about to join them, and melt away, forgotten in time, or will I actually show how strong I can be, and finally prove myself?

I returned my thoughts to the battle scene, were I was continually blocking and enduring all attacks like I have been doing for what seemed like the last half hour. Time to make a change, I realized. As I blocked another attack, I found an opening and gathered up my confidence. This one is going to hurt. _I'm going to make it hurt._ I sent my punch hard against his chest, hearing the charcoal break and bits falling off, the hot stream not there to burn my hand off, a flash of light glowing between my fist and his chest. In a matter of seconds there was a large explosion right between my attack and him that seemed to come from that light I made when my attack made contact, the explosion pushing me back to solid ground up north, and him far back south.

Dust caked my clothes as I struggled to keep my stand steady, wiping the blood from my bottom lip off with my left sleeve, since my left arm was easiest to move now. I heard a low growl as Eruption was knocked back south, and I hoped he hadn't gotten to the Minor and Jeremy. The growl continued to grow and soon there was another loud explosion with raging reds and tints of brown.

I looked forward and saw strong winds coming in my direction, blowing more dust in my face and clothes. The breath got caught in my throat as I saw a raging burst of red lava that broke the ground coming closer to me. The loud and blazing lava was headed straight for me, the huge lava source bursting from where Eruption had been knocked away. I couldn't escape it, I thought. I won't survive! I put my arms to protect myself, knowing that it wouldn't work, and closed my eyes. In only a matter of seconds did I feel the heat begin to surround me and take over my body.

I suddenly began to feel the heat drain away farther from me, and a humming noise given off around me. I heard the crashing of flames and lava, but it wasn't against my skin. It was something else around me. But what? I reopened my eyes slowly, scared of what I might see.

But that was just it. I didn't see _anything, _Only pitch blackness around me, like I was taken into another part of the world with shadowy surroundings. I felt grateful I wasn't burnt to a crisp. Well, at least not completely. I felt the air grasp around my forearms, meaning that my sleeves were completely burned off. Soon, I was taken out of the world of blackness, the blanket that covered me lifting from the front of me, and uncovering, diminishing to the back.

As the blanket began to lift I could see my surroundings once again. Sparks were flying all around from fire and more lava was under the ground, still viciously bubbling. In the far distance I saw Eruption's silhouette painted on the few clouds of dust surrounding the scene, which was glowing bright with lava streams painted all over the place. Smoke was rising from Eruption's place, and low moans and growls came from his direction, too.

I looked around to see if anything had caused that blanket of black that protected me from the flaming burst. Had I done it myself without realizing it? Was that also another one of my powers?

Soon, I saw that a few yards behind me, and a few feet away from where the lava bursting attack ended, I saw Jeremy, kneeling in front of the Minor's laying body. The fellow Minor was looking straight at me from his place on the ground, giving me a knowing look. So it was him, I realized. But what was he doing here?

"Hey, didn't I leave you guys back there?" I said, pointing to the other side with my sleeves burnt off up to my bicep part, my jeans ashy and dirty with holes in them caused by lava, and my shoes all dusted up and ashy as well. "How did you get over here?" I asked Jeremy.

"This guy can do more than you think," he said, referring to the Minor laying on the ground, who was still giving me a knowing look in his half-closed eyes.

Amazing, I thought. He could still perform skills under his condition? He had some heart, I tell you. "Thanks," I told him, turning back to Eruption's direction, giving him a kind smile for the moment. Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could've sensed that he was trying hard to smile back, and he knew that I knew it, too.

"What's the matter with you!? Why won't you fucking die?! Are you screwing with me or some shit like that?!" I heard Eruption shout at me with a angry, raspy, and demonic voice, his body still smoking from his extreme volcanic attack and his silhouette still painted on the smoke he was giving off far away.

I didn't get offended by his curse comments. I just smirked at his angriness. In a way, I realized that I looked down on him. I don't know why though, he could've easily killed me by now if it hadn't been for Jeremy and that guy over there. I'd have to get his name later. What he did was really kind. I'd have to pay him back.

We've got to end this now, I thought. I focused my botanical energy and prepared for more vines to come shooting out. "Don't worry," I told the guy lying on the floor, his eyes half opened, weak and heavy. "We'll get you to a doctor soon," I told him, looking back at him, my stare hinted with neon green from the energy I was giving off. He didn't say anything back. He just smiled.

I turned back to Eruption's direction. "This time, you lose!" I told him, the energy pouring out of me like a raging fire, the kind of raging fire Eruption used when he tried to kill me. I let the millions; maybe even billions this time of vines explode out of the holes in the ground with a drilling sound, tying Eruption's position down. The numerous vines wrapped around him and held him down to the floor, covering every aspect of his body in a circular bind except his head, the links of vines connecting from every direction possible, even from where I was.

I ran towards him now, balancing on the unstable rocks in the lava river with ease this time, running with amazing speed. I jumped as I was a few feet nearing him, and charged energy in my foot. If I wanted to hurt him, I had to use that kind of attack, I realized.

As I succeeded my drop kick, my leg colliding with his own body, I felt the pressure rate around us suddenly come down strongly. The pieces of rock on the ground smashed hard into the lava, cracking into bits due to the sudden and strange pressure. My body remained stationary in the air in the position I had made contact with my attack on him in.

Eruption let out loud growls and painful moans as light flashed and fluttered from in between my foot and his body, the vines holding him back so he wouldn't fly away. High above us, the clouds continued to roar with lightning, producing no tears or sympathy for Eruption or me. The ash and dust clouds surrounding us became thinner and thinner, clearing the pathway for us and allowing more sight.

Soon my attack was over, and I jumped back to a wide rock on the surface of the lava pool. This time, it was Eruption who was hurting, his body smoking from the intense light given from my kick.

Now, I was going to use another trick to make sure he stays in as weak condition as possible so he doesn't come after us again. I hadn't really learned it, but I knew I could use it. Plus, I needed more energy for myself.

Slowly, I put energy into my feet, forcing down roots and vines into the floor. I felt my stance become stable and stuck into the floor as I tried hard to connect the vines to the roots of the vines underground that were still wrapped around Eruption. I knew that this skill could be used for water, but what if…?

I found the roots I were looking for and began the process. Slowly but steadily, I began absorbing whatever energy Eruption had left in his body, the grayish green vines glowing with energy currents flowing through them and back into the ground from Eruption's monstrous position. I felt the energy go straight into my feet, my breath return to me, my heart rate return to normal, and the energy to do much more I could do normally spread throughout my body.

Soon during the absorption, the armor around Eruption began cracking and falling apart, the large pieces of the volcanic rock falling off and the streams of lava refusing to flow any longer, dying out. Once all of his armor was out, the vines crawled back into their holes since there was no more energy to take out. His human, if you could call it that, form was lying on the floor, turned face-up and his back against the rocks that lay softly in the sea of lava he had created himself. His eyes closed, and his state unconscious.

As I felt the vines I implanted into the ground return into my feet and condense back into energy, I began walking back to Jeremy and the Minor.

"You okay, Jeremy-san?" I asked him, picking up the Minor in both my arms which were charred with hot ash and burnt with bubbling lava, just like my clothes, and began carrying his body with my newfound energy.

"Am I okay? The question is, are you okay?" he asked me as if I was crazy. He didn't show it, but I knew that he was impressed that I used Ingrain in a whole different way than he had ever seen it. I could tell with the look in his eyes as we continued to strike conversations.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I told him, looking at the Minor's face, which was blank with his eyes closed, his state of mind unconscious. I could feel the blood coming out of his body slowly and steadily from the damage Eruption had done to him. He needed a doctor.

As if reading my mind, Jeremy said, "Let's go to Hanayuki Town. That's the nearest hospital from here."

I agreed and we began to walk down the road that lead to Hanayuki Town. I knew we'd be there soon. I've been there before, and it's not far. This road will lead us straight to it. It was a great place, but I could think of a better place to be. Right here with Jeremy, all ready forgetting what had happened three minutes before.


	11. Chapter 11

In the snowy town of Hanayuki, furious snow and howling winds raided the large town, the whispers and diagonal path of vicious sleet raining down on the townspeople below.

In the far borders of the town was seen a young figure of a man, silhouetted against the steamy white sky, walking into the town, wearing a black puffy jacket to keep him warm from the freezing snow, the jacket covering his entire waist up, including his head with a black furry hood. He dragged his boots across the soft snow on the ground that seemed to be rising by inch every minute. At his mysterious presence, everyone turned to look at him, only to look away a second later, somewhat bothered by his entering, even though they didn't know who he was, the strange person who kept pacing himself through the thick snow. All they thought of him was that he was different. He was powerful.

About five miles away, the wind was howling loudly outside a tall, snowy hospital's walls, the freezing cold flurries running themselves against the glass window panes. The cold white dots grouped together at the window's corners, creating an icy frame around the outside of the window, fogging it up with cold mist and air.

I sat in the chair uncomfortably. My seat up against the small hospital room, I sat silently by the Minor's resting body as the doctors were taking X-Ray studies on his condition. The neon cylinder lights on the ceiling buzzed with an electric hum, lighting up the small room. The walls, blank and covered with white wallpaper and the floors, shiny and tiled with squeaky clean surfaces painted the scene old and bright.

The only thing that seemed to be in color was the nightstand by the unconscious Minor settled softly on the bed, a plant laid on top of the wooden and brown piece of furniture. The plant, small and inside a round, clay vase had big, green leaves that went down to the surface of the nightstand. It seemed as calm, peaceful, and unmoving as the Minor's position on the white hospital bed, which was big and large, taking up about half the room.

The patient lay silently with his head resting on the fluffy pillow, his hair black and spiked up, not at all disheveled from the fight that took place back in Jagrock. His eyes would seem like they were peaceful yet mean underneath that revealed a cold stare behind the lids. His tanned arms were laid out in front of the plain, white sheets, his body never moving, or even twitching a little in the blank shirt with dotted blue hints on it the hospital had put on him. Tubes stuck out of his arms and other parts of his body, taking blood tests and other searches for signs of any other damage the fight might have done.

I looked down to the bright floor below and sighed, looking at the reflection of myself, the floors glaring bright because of the soft, buzzing ceiling lights. I pondered in deep thought and asked myself how the new Minor would react to the whole thing when he found out that his life was now involved with the whole Council and a mystery we were going to solve once we got the other Minors. Would he betray us and say he'd rather die than help us? Or would he just reject it all and laugh at us, saying that he was being punked.

Well, either way, his body was recovering slowly in his rest, the monitor that lay in front of the nightstand telling the rate of his heartbeat silently, not giving the dead beep as it always was seen on television.

My eyes soon became sore from the glare given by the shiny floors, my stare stuck on it as I was thinking my private ideas. It didn't take a long time until I saw everything in a different tone and color. "What?" a voice said suddenly and blankly, almost in an annoyed tone, breaking the buzzing silence and surprising me.

I looked up to find the black-eyed Minor staring at me with a somewhat cold and lazy stare, his head turned towards my direction on the big, comfortable looking pillow. His voice was clearer now I saw, not like it was before when it was weak and raspy. I suddenly got the feeling where a person would come up to another, more powerful person that had a life of luxury, while the arriving person would have nothing, and the powerful one would look down on him in his misery, feeling worthless and nervous in front of someone who could take away his life in a mere snap of his fingers.

I continued to look at his stare for two or three seconds, an inner pleading in his eyes for an answer or reply of some sort as I began to choke out my answer. "N-Nothing," I told him nervously, taken by surprise at his sudden state of consciousness, losing my train of thought.

"No," the Minor denied my answer, turning his head along with his stare to the ceiling, glancing dead forward into space. "You were thinking about something," he said, not caring to look at me as I talked anymore. He seemed so different. He looked hopeful back at the time when I had helped him, but now he looked so antisocial and uncaring. His sudden change in attitude made me even more nervous than I all ready was.

I looked at him as I couldn't figure out what to say as a reply to his comment, gulping a panic attack down my throat.

Soon, he sighed and closed his eyes, then reopened them with a sigh, blankly saying, "Thanks for saving me." His words came out reluctantly, like he didn't mean it. But I could tell that he really did mean what he said, it's just he didn't want to feel or look weak while he did.

"Oh, it's no problem," I began a conversation, still nervous at heart and wandering in stare as I spoke my words. "I would do it anytime you know, because well, no one should go attacking a total stranger like that, and well-," my words got cut off.

"So tell me, what really happened at that time? People just don't attack others everyday out of nowhere for no reason. What's going on?" he said, changing the subject to a small scale like he was tired of my talking all ready, with his stare still stuck on the ceiling tiles that were bright with reflective light.

"Well, it began like this…" I told him everything Jeremy had told me, about the scroll being opened and the White Cloak person and the mission, and not to mention how he met me. All the while, the listening Minor didn't show any signs of reaction, he just heard my words with care, or at least it seemed.

After I had finished my explanation, he still acted like he had no reply. He didn't give me any reaction, so I thought I would get one out of him. "So, what's your name? I didn't get a chance to ask for it back then," I told him nervously with a weak smile, bringing up the topic from who knows where.

"My name's Yomi Derek," he told me with no enthusiasm, still no expression on his face except a bored yet mean one. And here I though he wanted to know everything.

I was smiling nervously at him so much, desperately trying to make conversation; I began to wonder if this guy saw me as some kind of psycho. Yet he was the one with the last name Yomi, meaning hell or the devil. "My name's Kokori Dylan," I told him. "Nice to meet you."

As always he didn't give me a reply. He just kept staring, searching in space for something he couldn't find.

"Kokori Dylan?" he said in a blank manner. What was he going to say about my name? I wondered as I gulped a nervous knot down my throat. "Kokori means individual benefit, doesn't it?" he asked me, still searching the ceiling for something I couldn't see.

"Yeah, but don't take it the wrong way. I'm actually the opposite of that," I said with a nervous smile and laugh with crinkled eyes, hoping he didn't think badly of me. Although, he didn't really seem to care what my last name was. He didn't seem to care about the conversation we were having at all. Even though he kept it going.

For a while, he didn't say anything, as if he was being deep in thought, trying to make a big decision, when finally, he said, "I'll help you and that Jeremy kid." He said it to me so straightforward, informing me with the answer I had wanted to hear him say for a period of time now. He stared at me a bit coldly but also friendly as _he_ waited for _my_ reply for a change.

All my nervousness went away, and I said nothing and smiled, not caring what he thought of my constant happiness now. I smiled with what I considered his friendly stare in agreement; my eyes crinkled and grin not too wide.

That moment, an echoing knock was heard from outside the room. Just as the knock was heard, Derek seemed to turn back to his search on the ceiling, continuing to look for that lost something he had no idea about, paying no more attention towards me.

I watched as two young nurses, maybe in their early twenties came in the room silently with the clicking of their shoes, dressed in a white dress and medic hat, one with a clipboard held against her chest. Both dressed holily in white, one of them with blonde and tied back hair and the other one with short brown hair, they apologized for the interruption. They looked so nurse-like and proper with their young medic outfit and wide, innocent eyes.

"It's time for the doctor's procedure to begin on the patient," the shorter, brown-haired one said in a high pitched voice, one that could be confused for a little girl's. She sounded so happy about that, I thought suspiciously.

Doctor's procedure? And just what was this doctor going to do? I thought, uneasy in the itchy chair. "Well, if you could tell me first, what's wrong with him?" I asked, shifting in my seat.

Just as one of them was about to give me an explanation, a man came in with a cold and harder stare that that of Derek's and a white doctor's suit with gray and white long hair tied in a kind of ponytail that hung down to his shoulder. His presence was sudden and surprising to everyone in the room except Derek while he said, "The bones in his spine have fragments broken off of them, giving him a weak back, and two of his ribs were snapped off and are inside his body now, making him hard to even try to stand up or move."

Ooh, I thought. That's some damage. I was lucky I only left that battle with burn marks. To think, what would have happened if I didn't practice controlling my powers back at the ship? Derek and I probably wouldn't be here by now. "I'll have to perform surgery on the patient to fix his broken bones and repair them. But don't worry. He just needs a bone position replacement and rest. He'll be all right after that," the doctor told me with an unknowing stare. He didn't seem too trustworthy, I thought.

"Just a bone repla-?!" I began to yell to raise my voice, almost jumping out of my seat when one of the nurses motioned for me to calm down suddenly, as if scolding me.

"Calm down. There's no need to worry for your friend. This doctor specializes in bone surgeries, and because we have him, little pain will come to the patient during the process of surgery, and it will be done in a matter of seconds," the brown haired nurse explained to me. In shock, I calmed down reluctantly as I noticed that the nurse was a confident one. I bet the blonde was just there to hand the doctor a pair of scissors or something, I thought.

So maybe this guy is pretty skilled. But the whole operation finished in a matter of seconds? That's impossible. And how can almost no pain come to him? That's also impossible. His bone injuries are worse than I ever imagined and here they are telling me that he won't feel much pain and he'll be fixed up in just a matter of seconds? No way.

I stared in my chair thinking these thoughts for about five seconds as the two nurses and one doctor gave me a hard look that screamed the words "get out."

"All right," I told them reluctantly, still thinking about it in my mind, only getting up to get them off my back, lifting myself up from the seat. My legs were kind of asleep from sitting in the uncomfortable chair for so long. I slowly walked past the two nurses and the supposedly talented doctor as I headed for the exit of the room. I looked back to see Derek's expression, but there still was none. It remained a blank face with a somewhat cold but kind stare that lay itself on the ceiling of the bright, clean room. It was like he wasn't hearing any of the things the doctors or nurses said. It was like he was all ready dead.

Once I was out of the room and by the doorway, the blonde nurse had closed the door behind me softly, practically telling me to stay out. Could we really trust these people with Derek? I thought. I knew Hanayuki City itself was a good place, but I've never heard anything about their hospital. The place looked trustworthy enough. But I'm not so sure…

I decided to watch the whole "matter of seconds" just to be sure of myself that they were good people working the right way. I peeked through the small glass window pane on the door and watched as one nurse took out a kind of monitor that showed the two x-ray videos of the broken parts of Derek's body that needed to be fixed from the corner of the room as the other motioned to turn off the lights.

The two nurses stood on opposite sides of the bed, surrounding the patient, the doctor with one of the nurses to the right side, and me to the left. A nurse rolled the cart-stand thing with the monitor that showed the two videos on the screen of Derek's body being x-rayed currently. The monitor shone brightly in the darkness of the room, the wind howling viciously behind them and snow puttering somewhat powerfully, creating a background for the whole process.

The doctor, right beside the nightstand and Derek's bed, who was still expressionless just like the doctor was, put his hands together in a praying type formation and closed his eyes. Just what was he going to do? I watched as a white glow began to lace his hands while he put the two palms on the patient's chest in the dark, hospital room.

There was a slight hum that gave off from the doctor's glowing hands, replacing the buzzing of electricity that used to be there when the lights were on, followed by a few painful grunts and moans by Derek as I heard cracking of rebuilding bones inside the room. It sounded like milk pouring on cereal. Well, at least he was showing some emotion now, I thought, trying hard to look on the bright side of things. I was watching him as he pushed together his eyelids and moaned in pain now and then, his body wanting to hunch forward.

The two nurses watched and examined the whole process as I moved my eyes to the monitor that videoed his x-rays. In the darkness, the ghostly glowing videos clearly showed pieces of his spine that were in his blood floating freely and the two rib pieces broken off from his chest coming closer back into their place. How strange, I thought. Was the doctor a Minor, too? No… he wasn't a teenager. So what then? Was he like Jeremy?

I continued to watch the screen through the reflector of light window pane as his bone fragments became one with the original bone pieces again. Then, I heard Derek cough out blood. One of the nurses covered his mouth with a tissue a tissue, and cleaned up with it. He was in even more pain now, his eyes trying to squint and blink the hurt away. But I had to admit, it didn't seem like it was that much pain.

After about thirty more seconds, the white lace of energy around the doctor's hands stopped and the bones were completely healed and back to normal, according to the x-ray videos. I was glad to see it all happen. I felt guilty after for not trusting them. But they didn't tell me they had some freaky powers to help them out, so I assumed the worst.

I finally turned away from the door to find little Jeremy walking towards my direction slowly with a small, paper cup of water with ice pieces in it. The cup was small and delicate, just like Jeremy's appearance, a paint design rendering the cup with an old-fashioned hospital look. He came closer towards me carrying my bag I had asked him to hold for me on one hand, and the cup of water in the other. He was wearing a big jacket that kept him warm that the hospital had kindly given him. I guess small kids like him were lucky like that.

After seeing Jeremy, I automatically knew the doctor wasn't a Minor, since his locket wasn't beeping. So the guy operating on Derek really was someone with powers unexplained like Jeremy, I thought.

I turned my attention more to Jeremy, who was when one foot away from me sipped the cup slowly and then asked, "So how's the Minor doing?" His eyes shone with worry and curiosity.

"He's doing fine," I told him with a smile. "He'll need rest though, and the doctor is operating on him right now, but his life isn't threatened. He also said he'll help us after he gets healed."

"That's great!" Jeremy said with a cheerful look, sipping the small cup of water. Looking at the little guy drinking from a little cup made me laugh for who knows why. "What?" he asked me, astonished that I began laughing out of nowhere.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" I asked, ignoring his question. He didn't give any answer or sign of one. He just gave an interesting look. "Come on, let's go get lunch outside," I told him, motioning for us to go.

"Okay," he said in an agreeing voice. "But what about your clothes?" he asked me, still holding the small cup of ice water in his tiny hand.

"What about my clothes?" I told him with a cheery look, taking my bag from his possession.

"They're all ashy. Don't you want a new sweater?" Jeremy asked, giving me a look as if I was being crazy.

I looked at my clothes. The sleeves were completely melted off and the ends of whatever was left were burnt and my hood was half-burnt off as well. Char marks tinted my green sweater and jeans. "I guess, but I all ready have a new sweater," I told him, zipping open my bag.

"Huh?" he asked, even more astonished than before, and this time with a hint of surprise.

To shock him even more, I quickly took out another, same exact sweater as the one I was wearing and held it up, as if to say "Ta-da!"

"What the…" Jeremy began as he made a funny look on his face, as if to say, "oh my god…are you kidding me?" at the sight of the same exact sweater being pulled out. I laughed at his reaction. I knew he'd do something like that.

"Now, how about that lunch?" I asked, smiling as I took off my old sweater to reveal the black shirt I wore underneath and putting on the new sweater, which felt cool and not warm to my body. My smile was obviously a hungry one and food-deprived, and my eyes crinkled in a pain known as hunger.

He began to stare at me with a considerate stare, looking at me and back to the water cup a couple of times. "Okay, let's go," he said, finally deciding.

"Good," I told him, motioning for the end of the corridor to reach the elevators. "It'll be on me," I said, marching, taking his cup of water and throwing it into a nearby trash can. He followed slowly at first, but he caught up to my speed. I zipped up my sweater as both of us marched hungry and proud through the brightly lit hallway of the hospital, both of us wishing Derek good luck in there.

It didn't take us long to get out of the hospital building and look for a good place to eat. We found this one place that served lunch and dinner, and we both ordered the fried chicken and rice bento which we ate inside since it was so freezing cold outside that we were sure our food would become ice by the time we reached the hospital.

When our orders came in, they looked so good steaming in our face, the fried chicken with a lemon scent squeezed on it. Jeremy stared at his meal in hunger and I didn't prevent myself from doing the same. We ate quickly and hungrily, the hot rice warming our stomachs, the crispy fried chicken complimenting our sense of taste. Of course, I had to order two more while Jeremy still worked on his one lunch. He was so slow, I thought.

The restaurant was a big one, the entrance made of glass and its length much bigger than its width. It was like a long rectangular place to eat, where customers feasted on one long table and had to sit next to each other as they ate in a bright lighting and neon lit walk around the table for waiters and waitresses to traverse around the place, taking orders. The place was painted various colors on the inside, the walls orange and the table green and blue.

The place was crowded at this time, and everyone was being loud and noisy, customers shouting and talking over each other in conversation, workers coming in and out of the kitchen located in a back room to take orders and give them out.

I don't know why, but the owner came to Jeremy and me and began to chat with us. He talked about things like how we weren't regular customers and if we were looking for fun, we should go visit the carnival that was open this season. The fair was located to the far right of the restaurant, but I didn't think we'd go because it was snowing way too hard to walk. I didn't really listen to him for the most part. I just quickly ate my food with faster speed than I used at the ramen store for my chopsticks.

I guess he was just making conversation with the new customers to make their time extra special. I didn't really care. It wasn't like we'd be there everyday from now on, anyway.

Well, the manager was soon taken away by the screaming voice of the assistant manager. They had to take care of some problems back in the kitchen. Maybe a spill or something, I don't know. But I was glad that he was gone. I'm sure Jeremy was, too.

PoVS

In the same dark room as always, the waters colder and dirtier, the room having more of an odor problem, a white hooded man sat in the bacterial water cross-legged, Indian style, and focused hard. He had just finished the Unison Process of learning the skill. Now he had to isolate himself and give him time for the skill to mold into his body, to get used to him after a tired fight of trying to resist the absorption. This was called the Calming Process, the last and final one.

This would only take about a bit longer of the cloaked man's time, and wouldn't keep him in long. He wanted to go straight for Walter right after this. Even if he had been pretty much useful so far, the shady, cloaked man couldn't risk losing hold of him. Walter was the only one in his possession so far.

Suddenly, the mysterious cloaked man sensed something and straightened his back in alert. Another chance, he thought. And I better not fail it. He broke off the Calming Process for now, and tried to track down where the two people he had sensed. Hanayuki Town, he soon realized with the help of his radar skill, gained by studying the arts. Two Half Spirits are being active…

He continued to sit in the darkness and black waters, cold against his legs. "Third-Ranker," he called out, knowing that the weak man had been hiding in the shadows all this time, watching him, observing him.

"Y-Yes?" the Third Ranker called out in a weak, frail voice, stepping out from the shadows with a hopeful expression on his face, expecting to help the cloaked man.

"Alert the ones patrolling Hanayuki Town to get to the carnival and find the two Half Spirits that are active. Also, tell them that another may be there in the hospital while another one would be with the first two along with a small child." That's what Eruption had told the cloaked one, after all. "Do it. Now," he commanded the weaker one, unmoving from his position in the dark, dirty waters.

"R-Right away, s-sir!" the weak one said, saluting the cloaked one like he was a sergeant, then running off back into the shadows to obey orders, eager to do something for the cloaked man for once and become useful.

PoVS

The sudden wailing came at us all of a sudden while we were just leaving the store. A sharp beeping like a siren or a banshee was all I heard for a straight five seconds. I was surprised by the sudden noise, and was almost knocked into the snow outside of the restaurant. The snowstorm had finally weakened down to a calm, drifting state, but now, it was my locket that was seriously bothering me.

The beeping seemed to grow louder next to me as I grumbled with the lace that was put around my neck to hold the locket. When I finally got it to open as fast as I could to see what was up, I was shocked. I ignored the warmness it gave my raw fingers right away, the pretty gold shining in the weather while snowflakes nestled themselves on the lid and other various parts of it. I wasn't a bit happy at all like I thought I would when the sharp beeping finally stopped. Instead, panic rushed through my blood.

My heart began racing in my chest wildly as I saw not one, but _two_ pieces of the twelve Minor pie chart blinking wildly with the colors golden and yellow. Not good, I thought. Two Minors active at once? I tracked the two people to find where they were, and the monitor told me they were at the carnival right in Hanayuki town, where the manager of the store had mentioned earlier. Boy, I wish I had paid more attention then.

"Well?" Dylan asked, not sounding at all surprised, his misty breath floating up in the air and disappearing by the wisp. "Let's go! What are you waiting for?"

He immediately began running through the three inches and still growing of snow as I desperately tried to keep up with him, putting my locket away. It felt cold now against my warm body under my jacket and shirt. I muttered and tried hard to keep up with him, but I kept feeling like the snow would trip me sooner or later. Too bad I couldn't super-speed or anything. We ran off to the right from the diner, and after what seemed to be running for eternity, we saw the amusement park, all lit up with rainbow lights with sounds and cheers coming from that direction, a huge Ferris wheel lit up high in the sky, proud to be there. I knew that soon, more panic would come to our hearts, and that soon, we would have our lives totally in danger.

PoVS

In the distance, in a certain room in the Hanayuki Hotel, four people sat around the small bought room, looking tough and cool, sitting on all kinds of furniture irrespectively.

They waited in the room for some kind of call, some kind of event to happen to excite their souls. But nothing happened. One just lay there on the floor, smoking his lungs off, the other with her hair back with her feet on a chair, staring deep into the depths of a mirror help up against the right wall, admiring her so called "beauty" and giving silently thought compliments to herself.

The other two were in other parts of the room. One on the couch just sitting there coolly, the other one sitting on a desk in the corner of the room, backed up against the wall.

As if their wishes came true, there came a beeping from the direction in which the guy on the floor was. "Eh…?" he mumbled as he stared lazily into his blaring watch, the smoke from his cigarette poisoning the air dangerously with wisps of white, the fire alarm in the room disconnected by him so it wouldn't "cause trouble".

The small black watch strapped to his wrist continued to beep noisily and shrilly in the small, stuffy room until the girl, still staring deep into the mirror finally said, "Answer the damn thing, Minoshi." Her look showed an annoyed one, one that felt like smacking the guy on the floor right across the face for disturbing her snobby thoughts.

The guy on the floor followed her request with his white, spread out in the front hair lifting as he tilted his head forward to see the watch. It seemed like such a strain just to pick his head from up the floor. He pushed a button on the strange watch-type wristband with his other available hand, and settled himself back down on the floor with the lazy stare in his eyes returning as what seemed to be a recorded voice with loud static in the background began echoing throughout the room, giving out a message.

"C-Cloak says that there are two Half-Spirits in Hanayuki Town," a frail voice said through the small speakers on the wristband. Everyone listened with interest, except the wasted guy on the floor, acting like he had the worst hangover of the century, his crooked smile and eyes painting his face high and lazy. "H-He says to also w-watch out for another t-two, o-one in the hospital, and the other most likely in the carnival as w-well," the frail voice said again, shaking his voice violently like he had no backbone, or like he was having a seizure.

"Yeah, we got it. Thanks, Mijai," the wasted one said, speaking scratchily through the mini microphones on the wristband. There was no reply. Just a click and that was the end of that. The static finally died and the silence returned to the room with new thoughts reining the four people's minds.

"So," the girl began in her snobby voice, setting her feet down on the floor and getting ready. "New kid, this is your first time. Are you ready to do some damage?" she asked him, provoking him with a smirk behind her wildly long black hair highlighted purple.

The "New Kid" sat there on the couch, lying like he was cool, his stare stuck on the ground as one foot was on the other leg's knee, and his body covered by a dark blue jacket with faux fur. He lifted his stare directly into the girl's eyes, giving her a ice-hard stare and said, "Just some damage?" he asked, acting a bit too confident and rude, his expression unchanging. His words came out with a low frown, his brown hair jumping slowly in the air as he lifted himself from the couch.

"That's more like it," the girl said, turning to the others. "Minoshi, get your ass off the floor, and you," she turned to the other one in a corner, his mouth and nose covered in a mask, Minoshi getting up silently and lazily from the floor, standing on his butt with his white hair perfectly spread out. "Don't dawdle," she told the guy in the corner as he flash-stepped out of sight and came right in front of her, giving her a cold stare. He didn't care to give a reply to her comment. He just showed a sign that he was ready to leave. She didn't do much at his "attitude", or so she considered it. She just scoffed and opened the small room's wooden door widely, all four of them prepared not to fail White Cloak like the past two who tried have.


	12. Chapter 12

As strange being that seemed to stand out among everyone else for some strange unknown reason walked through the now calm snow in the town of Hanayuki, standing tall and proud with his identity still veiled in his fur and black material jacket. His hands stuffed straight into his jacket pockets, he walked at a steady and slow pace through the town. Barely anyone was outside, everyone decided to stay in for the day because it was too cold, and the people who were outside were at the carnival.

The person with the hidden identity seemed to walk aimlessly through the town, looking like he didn't know where he was. Suddenly, seeming to come from nowhere, there was a faint pacing noise behind him.

He turned around to find three people rushing towards him, running at athletes' type of speed. He looked at their faces, one girl and two guys. Their colorful figures were silhouetted against the snowy white sky, their feet pouncing the snow into the air with every step.

The girl, with black long hair and purple highlights, her hair fluttering behind her as she ran headfirst the fastest she could through the large blanket of white that prevailed the town on the ground in the air behind her after every step looked armed and ready to hurt someone, her clothes all warrior-type like with metal embraced her equipment.

The two guys, one smoking, letting free white wisps into the air that matched his hair color ran big and tall through the white-blue snow with a black biker jacket only wearing a tank top undershirt underneath, his body much too muscular for a teenager's. The other one, brown haired and brown eyed, had a black-blue jacket with fake animal fur framing it, his brown hair styled to long and big three strands, if you could call them strands, that is, since they were so large, all the way to one side of his face, going slanted up then slanted down. The "strands" swung wildly in the cold wind that brushed against his face as he ran beside the other two.

Right away, the stranger in the black hooded jacket could tell that their purpose wasn't a good one. They had the look of malevolency in their eyes, and he knew that he had to stop them. After all, that was the kind of person he was.

He turned his path around and walked towards them, so they would notice him in their way. When they finally noticed him, the girl of the group stopped suddenly in her tracks on the cold and hard snow, skidding some forward in the form of dust as the other two guys followed suit.

The girl posed a mean look towards the stranger, mad that he was in their way, not at all caring of how shady he looked. "Who the hell are you?" she asked with her voice impatient. The other two guys put lazy, tough faces on, as if backing the girl's words up.

The stranger gave no reply. He didn't move, didn't say anything. Just stood there, blocking their way seemed to be enough of a comment for the girl.

"Answer me! What do you want? Money? Are you a beggar? Get lost, hobo," she told him, assuming things wildly, leaning forward and pushing her left leg back and placing her right hand on the handle of something that couldn't be seen that was tied to her waist. Was it a gun? "I said get lo-," she tried to repeat again, but her voice was cut off. Her eyes were wide with shock as the stranger began speaking to her all of a sudden.

"If I let you guys keep going, you would go and do something that wouldn't be for a good purpose, would you?" the strange man provoked, his voice lean and interrogative, the shadow from his hood blocking his face.

"What the hell are you talking about? Get out of our way or we make you get out of our way," the lazy looking one with the active cigarette in mouth asked. "Well?" he demanded an answer in a threatening matter.

He didn't answer back. It was either because he was scared or he didn't care. Either way, he continued to stand there, unmoving from his position on the white blanket of cold settled over the town grounds.

The girl scoffed right in his face. She was about to say something back when, all of a sudden, the brown haired one interrupted her and said, "You guys go ahead, I'll take care of him."

The girl turned her face back to the brown-haired male and said, "Would you? I'd appreciate it," she said, not at all nicely. She actually seemed grateful he was offering to back off the team. "Well?" she asked, turning back to the black jacketed man.

He didn't seem to reply, but the girl could've sworn she saw him nod his head a little. "All right, this'll be fun. You guys go on," the brown haired one said giving the stranger in their way a mean, cold stare.

"Gladly," the girl said, running off, trying to pass the strange man in the way, the lazy smokier following.

The exact same moment the girl and smoker male began running, the hooded man jumped back and took in a deep breath. The long inhale seemed to echo off the snow as the person seemed to remain stationary in the air, finally taking his hands out from his jacket pockets to direct the inhaled air better.

When he exhaled sharply, the male and female only a few feet away, a long and thin at first stream of bright red and orange came from the stranger's mouth, his feet coming back to the snowy grounds, his boots crunching in the snow, the thin stream of bright red and orange colors soon grew to become a huge and thick roaring fire that was about ten feet wide and continually growing in length. The flames were inches away from the smoker and girl when they faded from sight, speed stepping away from the attack and behind the stranger. Ass he continued to blow fire, the bright flames illuminating his face a little, he shifted his position, leaning into the attack.

The flames soon disappeared on the snowy cover, melting it up to about two inches. All that was left after was the two people running off in the distance behind the strange boy's back, his not running after them showing a sign of letting go, the snow between the two left people hissing and hot, letting steam slowly flow into the air like the smog from the smoker's cigarette. The attack stopped right before the brown haired one's eyes, his stare not looking at all impressed or surprise, but actually happy that he had someone to play with.

"Well, looks like we're going to be here for a while," the brown haired one said, making fake and friendly conversation. "Let's introduce ourselves, what's your name?" he asked him with a playful smirk.

The hooded person just stood there silently showing no emotion whatsoever and answered blankly with no enthusiasm, "Kahibi Eric."

"Nice to meet you Eric," the brown haired boy told the strange man, not meaning a word he said except "Eric". He shifted his feet in the snow, as if about to fight. Eric moved as well in response. "My name," the brown haired one began his sentence, pausing for effect. "Is Kasumi Walter."

PoVS

Dylan and I ran frantically into the carnival entrance, tired and our minds forgotten the big lunch we had. We both stopped and put both our hands on our knees, taking one deep breath after another. I could feel sweat drops beginning to streak down my forehead as I took a breather, my heart beating crazily in panic and need for rest. My chest was pounding and my body hot underneath my clothes, my lungs breathing in and out wildly cold air.

"What now?" Dylan asked, taking a breather between each word. He wiped three drops of sweat away from his forehead with his sleeve, breathing in and out the frosty air and releasing the visible steamy breath up to the sky, his cheeks red and tired from running.

"Now we can finally be safe," a boy's voice said, stepping in front of us. I heard the crunch of a sneaker crack the snow in front of us by a few feet, and at the same time I could've sword I heard a loud, shrill beep for a second.

Dylan and I both looked up to find two people staring at us with knowing smiles and their arms crossed, standing side by side, looking as happy as if they had just found a hundred bucks.

Both had blonde hair, one boy and one girl. The boy had straight spiky hair, which wasn't straight up like Derek's; it was going forward, like a kind of pointer. His blonde hair looked almost pure bright yellow that created shade for his forehead. His eyes were a type of dark yellow, wide and handsome, a bit like Dylan's. He wore a big yellow open shirt that looked like was the color of his hair that layered on top of a black long sleeve shirt that went all the way to his wrist. Beneath his crossed arms, sparks were flying from his right hand, shooting out bright freckles every which-a-way.

The girl had hair long enough to reach her waist was a little less yellow. It had a white streak going straight down the right side of her hair, and her eyes were blue that shone with confidence. Her clothes made her look like she was going on a vacation to a tropical island or something. She wore a tank top that was colored orange, long enough to the beginning of her waist where her tight jeans were. "Yeah," she agreed with the boy, smiling at us strangely as if she had known us for years "Do you know how long it took us to finally get our powers to work?"

"Wh-…What?" I asked, confused, amazed and out of breath.

PoVS

The boy entered through the hospital doors with ease. Why did they give him this task? It was by far the easiest one, walked past many patients and nurses on the first floor that gave him suspicious looks because of his untrustworthy look and unsteady pace.

The teenage boy had wrist-bound daggers, where your hands held each one from the inside and a leather strap was tied around each wrist so it stayed on, and at the end of the glove like holder was a triangular shaped sharp blade.

As Glory, what the thief group that worked for White Cloak named him walked unsteadily through the hospital, stumbling on his feet, trying to find his way around, he began thinking. He really had agreed to help White Cloak for no reason. He only began working for him so he could have a reason to use his newfound powers, since he couldn't find a reason when he was all alone with no one to share the secret with. But has he really resorted to using his powers for the purpose of the worst and for power in the end? Something he didn't ask for in the first place? But frankly, he didn't really care. He just did what anyone wanted him to so he could be useful.

Without much information about the Half-Spirit he was looking for, he would have to search the whole building and all the rooms to find it. I should look for a patient with a broken spine and ribcage, he thought, checking the status of each patient indicated on a golden frame beside the door. He continued to search each and every door until just as he was about to walk to another door in the sleepy heavy way he did, he felt someone's presence several feet behind him.

"Can I help you?" a sturdy voice behind him asked, deep and declarative, but still soft.

Glory turned around with his ice cold stare, his small and narrow eyes barely hidden by the large, raggedy scarf he wore to find a man in his early twenties with a stare as icy as his own in a doctor's suit with gray and white hair.

Glory dragged his arm daggers that went down to his knees and his brown mummy like clothing towards the doctor, facing him entirely now with his four blonde streaks of hair, two on each side dropping down from the top of his head and down to the large brown scarf that wrapped around him, covering his nose and mouth.

"Wouldn't you like to help me…" Glory replied in a despaired voice full of disbelief, turning back around and walking towards more doors.

"I know you," the doctor said, ignoring his comment and making Glory stop in his tracks so he could hear what he had to say. "You're Glory-san from that thief group that lives here in Hanayuki. I've seen you around for a while now. What do you want?" the doctor asked him, unmoving from his position with his bored, blank stare, not revealing any fear, his white hair against the right side of his chest in a ponytail. "Most of the town doesn't know about you guys yet, but I do," he told Glory in a straightforward manner.

"What's it to you?" Glory said in an interrogative soft voice, turning back around once again, staring with his mean stare, his back slanted because of his heavyset daggers weighing him down. This way, it made him look like a zombie.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the doctor said, ignoring his question. There was dead silence for a moment. The doctor then told a nearby nurse to gather all the other doctors and nurses in the hospital and stay in one room with the door locked. Almost right away did the nurse rush off to follow orders.

I see a chance to use my powers, Glory thought. It's about time. "I'm not leaving…" Glory told him, dragging his big daggers toward the doctor, who didn't seem to be threatened by the sharp objects at all. "Not without a fight, I'm not…" he said wearily.

Lazily and stumbling on his stance at first, Glory moved with gaining speed towards the strong looking doctor, first walking and then fast pacing then running, and motioned to strike one of the arm daggers against the doctor's neck. His swing was fast and swift, invisible to the naked eye. But the doctor blocked his attack quickly just by putting his arm out, the rest of his body not moving, his eyes still showing a fearless stare.

The dagger was right against the doctor's forearms, shaking wildly as Glory applied more force to it, with a strained, weak expression on his face, but no blood came out. "Allow me to introduce myself," the doctor said with the same cold and mysterious stare as Glory was so close to him, the attack failing and shaking violently, Glory a bit surprised at the shield his arm could make. "I'm Kimochi Shunokara, and I'm a doctor that specializes in bone fractures and impairs. Do you know why?" Shunokara asked Glory, barely caring that someone so dangerous was so close to him.

Frankly I don't give a crap, Glory thought as he tried to put more pressure on Shunokara's forearm. He tried as hard as he could but his forearm just wouldn't spill blood. The arm was acting like a stone hard shield. It didn't even feel like skin anymore. "Why the hell would I want to know something like that?" Glory said, his dagger still shaking along with his voice, still seeming to strain in pain.

"Because…" Shunokara began explaining to Glory, answering his question. "It's just how you might die!" he said loudly, raising his voice as the sentence progressed itself out of his mouth, the doctor deflecting back force from Shunokara's attack, the reflected attack throwing him off twenty feet down the hospital hallway which was brightly lit by the slight buzzing of the neon lights on the ceiling. Glory landed on the squeaky white floors with a slip, landing hard on his back.

Shunokara rolled up his left arm sleeve, which belonged to the arm that he used to block the attack, revealing thick and hard bones emerging from his skin in the shape of four thick, large thorns surrounding his forearm entirely, the hard bones growing higher. The "thorns" continued to grow longer until they surpassed the length of his own forearm as Glory stood up, feeling as heavy as ever, not looking at all scared of the doctor's strange bone powers. He just looked back in what either was held back fear or filled confidence.

"So, are you ready?" the doctor asked, the cracking of bones being created being heard throughout the white hallway, the standing man showing the forearm with the bones protruding from it in front of his own face, continually expanding like a plant.

Glory didn't reply. He just stood up proudly, looking confident that he was going to take Shunokara down. Shunokara had the same look in his eyes under the shadow of the two foot bone.

PoVS

"Wait, so let me get this right. You're saying that Minoa found you two guys during a search mission for clues on White Cloak when what?" I asked, still confused about what happened.

We were all sitting in the same place Dylan and me had arrived, but this time we had caught our breaths and Rick and Marissa, the two Minors were telling us about what happened and how they knew about everything even before we got there. We sat in the white blanket of snow covering the carnival grounds, my legs cold and pants frosty from the white wonders, the cold air surrounding Dylan and me, cooling our just about sweaty selves down.

"When Minoa was about to return because she couldn't find anything about White Cloak in Hanayuki town but came across us two traveling together and "sensed" that we had Half Spirit power. We all ready knew beforehand that she was part of the Council, and she told us about the whole story and that you were looking for us, and that you would find us if we activated our powers," Rick told us again, sitting on the floor in front of us by Marissa, who was also sitting cross legged.

Dylan and I listened with care. "We didn't believe her at first, but after she left we actually tried it, and well, after weeks of trying and having seen our own powers and having seen you guys, we believe it now. We knew it was you guys because well… she told us _everything,_" Marissa said in a teenage tone, her voice sounding melodic and peaceful.

"I see… so now what?" Dylan asked, sitting against the cold snow, picking up snow and fluttering it in the air just to watch it float back down.

"Now, I guess we go to the hospital and wait for that Derek guy to rest up," Rick said in a closuring tone. He stood up on his feet with a grunt, and so did Marissa. Dylan and I followed.

"Hold on just a sec. I don't think we're leaving just yet," I told them, looking to the entrance, watching my steamy breath flow into the air, swimming quickly, then disappearing.

"Why?" Rick said in his handsome teenage boy voice.

"Look," I told them, pointing to the entrance as I saw two dangerous looking people looking straight at us with evil, devious smirks. They were looking directly at us,, and scared the heck out of me. I knew that the others saw it, too. And we all knew that we were in deep trouble.


	13. Chapter 13

Outside, the snow was drifting quietly, no more howling or raging ice from before. Its pace was quiet now, like gentle angels drifting in the air until they finally rest upon the ground. They fell outside the large hospital room window, softly decorating the scene with the cold mist still pressed up against the door, the white slow framing it like a picture on the wall. Outside, the sky was steamy white, the town blanketed with cold white snow, decorating the houses from far away with a white, frosting like cover.

Inside, Derek sighed. His eyes were narrowed, his back against the bedpost, his arms crossed and one leg over the other flat on the bed. His head lay against the wall a few inches above the metal bedpost, his mind paying no attention to the dwelling snow outside. His tanned chest shirtless and covered with bandages and back with quick-healing ointment, he sat in the silent room, thinking about his new life. The slight buzzing of ceiling lights took over his hearing.

Being a Minor now will take lots of responsibility along with that power, he thought, raising one arm to his head's height, looking at his hand while imagining it doing all sorts of things. His fingers were curled up, no energy inside them.

Suddenly, disturbing his thoughts, there was a dead and heavy knock on the door. Derek looked past his hand, crossing both his arms against his chest again, and lifted his stare as he saw a nurse come in quickly and closing the door behind her. Derek gave her a stare as if asking her, "what?" with slanted dark eyebrows. He sat there, arms crossed, just looking at her.

Out of nervousness from the look he was giving her, she cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she pleaded in her quick voice.

"What?" he asked her for real this time, looking tough with his athletic built body and fearless look in his eyes. He watched the panic grow in the nurse's brown eyes, somewhat wondering what was she worried so much about.

"The doctor told me to come here, and stay in this room for the time being until further notice," she told him, turning back to the room's door and locking it tightly, peering out the glass window pane to see if anyone was outside.

"Why?" Derek asked her, unmoving from his relaxed position on the bed. "It's not like I can walk away anyway," taking his dark glance away from her, becoming uninterested in staring at one thing too long.

"That's what the doctor said," she repeated, not answering the question. Derek sighed and peered outside from his position on the bed as he heard the nurse pace to the room's closet and started sorting things out. The snow silently zigzagged outside from the thin hospital window, every little speck of white hiding their own little secret, keeping it until they fell down and joined the others. What's the secret you so desperately try to hide? He wondered, continuing to look out the window the best he could, wondering just what was going on with the nurse and the hospital. But all he could do was sit there, helpless to walk and unable to find out.

PoVS

Shunokara reflected another hit from Glory with his bony forearm shield, the "thorns" still growing by the second, the reflected attack making a clash noise of metal against the pale bones while sparks flew from screeching. The doctor reflected another strike as it came towards him from the right with his arm, making more noise and sparks.

The limited space of the hallway was suffocating as Glory came right at Shunokara and flew his dagger to his direction, aiming for where the doctor's head was. It missed Shunokara, though, as the intellectual doctor ducked out of the way, the attack only cutting the ends of his all ready short ponytail.

The doctor countered as he saw a chance and jammed his elbow right into Glory's ribs, sharpening his elbow under his skin, making the hurt extra painful. Glory cried out in agony and coughed out a splotch of blood on the squeaky floor tiles. Standing right in front of the experienced doctor, he smeared a streak of blood from his lips with his mummy like sleeve, giving the same cold stare the doctor did right back at him.

While Glory took only a few seconds to let the pain die out in his ribs, Shunokara hits Glory across the face with the thorn-boned arm, the impact on Glory's jaw so hard that it made him spit liquid saliva into the air, and collapse to the right as the liquid landed onto the white tiles as a pool right next to the smeared splotch of blood on the floor.

Glory tried stumbling back on his feet, his body thrusting back and forth, his hair following the same motion. He attempted to strike the doctor again but fails with the thorny arm shield in the way, making more bright sparks due to friction.

The doctor countered his attack with a punch from the thorny arm, knocking Glory back all the way to the other end of the hallway, which was also a dead end. His collision against the plaster-paved wall crashed with a horrid rumble, dust spilling out from the large hole and big chunks of the wall laying on the floor in front of the scene. Glory stumbled onto his feet again, moving chunks of plaster out of his way so he could get up.

The doctor, back at the beginning of the hallway still had his arm in position of his punch, the thorns eventually stopping to grow, and falling back limply to the doctor's side. "Give up yet?" the doctor asked, the sound of bones cracking as the pale thorns sunk slowly back into his body, echoing off the walls

"Not yet," came his reply. Glory stood on his feet, holding his right arm dagger down. Soon, it began to glow with an ominous purple light, the bright energy glowing off the walls. Glory took a step forward, disappearing as if into thin air, then reappeared right in front of Shunokara, thrusting the glowing dagger forward.

Again the doctor ducked, this time his gray-white ponytail safe, and continued to dodge the dangerous dagger with jumps from the left to the right and the right to the left. Despite Glory's unpredictable attack speed, Shunokara made him miss every single one of his attacks.

Glory made a final strike as Shunokara faded from his sight with unpredicted speed. Glory followed and did the same, disappearing like the dust. So fast that you couldn't see a thing, they came at each other from opposite sides, striking each other in the air with a dagger of purple energy and a long, thin, thorn like bone protruding from the palms of your hand, the two forces meeting in the middle of the hallway. The clash of the two attacks together provided momentarily flashes that could've given you a seizure.

The attacks just kept coming at each other from different ends, until finally Shunokara reappeared, then disappeared, going up the stairs that were unveiled behind the broken wall. Glory followed. Going from the first floor to the second, climbing the gray and cement stairs with amazing speed, Shunokara had a brilliant plan that hopefully would work.

PoVS

Rick had offered to take on the guy who called himself Minoshi, despite the lack of Minor power in him. Dylan, Marissa, and Jeremy ran off with the girl named Kontora on their trail, separating themselves into two groups. If you could call Rick a group.

Rick was totally surrounded by thick smoke, the ashy cloud not even letting in the least bit of snow in. The black fog circled him, clouding his handsome golden yellow eyes. He looked around in perception, watching for Minoshi. That guy was dangerous.

Minoshi suddenly jumped out from the thick cloud of ash and smoke he created, attempting to scissor cut Rick's neck with his short metal twin blades, clawing smoke trying to reach out to him as he jumped out.

Minoshi missed his attack, Rick bending backward, and trying to counter kick him. His upward kick was blocked, and Minoshi took Rick by his leg and swung him through the cloudy smoke and out to the cold snow outside. Specks of white frost ate at his face, slowly weaving a blanket around him.

As he tried to get back up on his feet, the black clouds shifted and moved, acting like it had a mind of its own, all of it going behind Minoshi, revealing his place in the situation, looking as mean as ever with that cigarette limp in between his ironically white teeth, his natural white hair spread out to the sides.

"What's the matter? Can't get back up?" he provoked in a "I'm better than you" manner. Rick scoffed as he stood on his feet, tall and proud again.

The clouds of smoke and ash swept back into the two short metal blades Minoshi held, as if the swords were vacuuming it all up like a cyclone. Soon, the clouds were gone and all that was left was Minoshi's cold stare and scary appearance.

Minoshi, big and tall for only nineteen years old, was a tough looking guy with a biker jacket and only a tank top underwear underneath, showing that he didn't care to wear much, as if he was too tough to do that. His jeans were long, black, and faded, a chain shaped like a semicircle revealed from under his leather biker jacket. His shoulders broad and chest proud, the cigarette in his mouth letting out a stream of cigarette smoke into the air, he seemed like a twenty-six year old adult.

He looked at Rick with his lazy stare, swinging his two metal blades that were so thin, they looked like plastic in the air, waving them frantically as more clouds of suffocating ash and dust spread out from them, enveloping his identity.

Why does he keep using that ash to hide himself? Rick asked himself as he got into position. Those lessons of the Tai arts really went to waste, didn't they? Rick held up his fist and held it tightly, noticing his arm was bleeding. "What?" he asked in surprise, his eyes widening and pupil shrinking in half. I don't remember getting hit or cut on my arm, he thought.

"What's wrong? Are you stalling like some little kid?" Minoshi's voice mocked through the cloud of smoke.

"You're the one hiding behind the dust like a little kid," Rick told him, taking his mind off the bloody arm, staring hard into the smoke.

"You don't get it do you?" Minoshi said, coming out from the smoke, the cigarette held in his mouth almost dead, a hint of red bright light at the other end of it where the smoke was coming from. "My sword dust is more than just a defense to cloud your sight," he told me, the cigarette in his mouth moving up and down as he spoke his words, continuing to pollute the air with the tobacco smoke.

"What do you mean?" Rick asked, confused. Rick shifted his feet in the snow as he sensed Minoshi was about to do something. Then, he noticed something. Both his arms were bloody. Actually, his chest and neck and his right cheek was beginning to spill blood too. Just what was going on here?

"You'll find out soon enough," Minoshi said, sending an evil smile in Rick's direction, the cloud of smoke growing behind him large enough to suffocate ten people. The drifting snowfall was so cold and calm, for some reason, Rick wished for the pouring hail again.

The cloud of smoke began to circle Minoshi; hiding his presence again as the cloud blanket began to drift in Rick's direction. Great. What the hell am I going to do now? Rick thought helplessly, unable to think of anything.

PoVS

The snow flew wildly at Eric; whacking him like the ground itself was throwing snowballs at him. Each and every attempt made impact against his chest, the snow flying from every direction thought possible. Eric was the stranger in the way. Walter and him had introduced themselves before the battle had started.

"Had enough?" Walter asked him, smirking and ready to hit him with more snow. This guy doesn't look as tough as he was back there, Walter thought. He had even gotten his hood down and seen his face. Eric wore a red bandanna, and had spikes of brown hair revealed underneath the edges of it, his eyes were kind of oval, his pupils and stare mean and protective. His body type just as tall and strong as Minoshi's he looked like he could really break a cement floor into bits and pieces with one punch. His face was long, and he was trying to dodge each and every snow wave I sent at him, sort of resisting to fight back.

He didn't reply. He just asked, "So you can control the snow?" He stared at Walter coldly, like he had done him wrong.

"The snow isn't what I control. I do something so much better than that. And you'll find out soon enough," Walter said proudly, gathering more snow from the ground and into the air to a concentrated area, creating a large wave of it ready to be flung.

Eric shifted his feet, as if getting ready.

Walter sent the wave of crashing snow wildly into Eric, sure that he wouldn't survive the attack. The snow clawed and ate at him, burying him under the cold white blanket. That was way too easy, Walter thought. He can't be dead yet.

And Walter was right. Soon after his burying, there was a huge and sudden explosion. It came from where he was under the thick snow, blowing chunks of snow everywhere and sending large puffy flames into the air, the huge puffs of the explosion beaming bright red and painting its color onto the snow and on my face. The result wind of the explosion was so high, I almost got knocked back, my clothes fluttering wildly as I squinted to protect my eyes but still trying to be able to see something in the explosion.

I felt hot air wash against my face as streaks of fire circled the large explosion diameter, the raging flames not reaching my direction. The actual flames went up in the sky so high, it looked like it made the sky stop shedding snowflakes to the ground.

Slowly the flames cooled down, revealing a huge hole in the ground without snow, hot steam rising from the hole's edges, creating a cloud of white blanketed around Eric, who didn't seem to be harmed at all. Beneath the steamy shield, Walter saw Eric give me the coldest stare he's ever seen. The hole released hot water vapor into the air, melting the currently falling snow even before it reached the ground.

"How about that?" he asked, cracking his knuckles loudly, his expression unchanging from unenthusiastic.

Walter scoffed. He didn't reply and thought he might show Eric a little something. Walter peered up to see more and more water vapor spill into the sky above, out of reach like a flying eagle. Slowly, he began molding the water vapor, condensing it in the sky and churning it, making a twisting spiral of water.

The rushing of water was heard as the spiral crashed down onto Eric, surrounding him in nothing but liquid. The middle part of the water began to rise, still twisting, creating a water cyclone, a whirlpool that Eric found himself trapped in.

The tornado like water spun wildly, reaching out to the sky, its transparency blurring. In a bubbling voice, I heard Eric take in a deep breath, and when he exhaled, it was another string of fire. He sent the hissing flames up to the cyclone's inside tip, the two canceling each other out in a wild pattern, releasing even more water vapor in the air, which was unable for me to condense; it was too far out of reach.

The spinning of the waters and churning of the rushing was so intense it even began to take in the air around it, spinning it like a wheel as well, my hair and clothes shifting to the left due to the tornado's clockwise rotation.

Eric continued to breathe out the streaks of weak fire, his cheeks still full of air to exhale, he and Walter both knowing that it wouldn't work at this rate. So Eric decided to let it all out, breathing like a huge flamethrower like a gasp. The roaring flames screamed and hissed as it traversed to the top of the cyclone, puffs of flames popping in the air like a crazy beast like popcorn did when it was in a microwave. The shrieking fires' bright light blurred through the cyclone, but still managed to spill once again on the blue-white snow and my face and eyes, glittering my stare.

Walter pressurized the water, making a better defense, but it was too hard. Slowly, from the top, the water began to dissolve and evaporate, becoming weaker by the second. The flames soon stopped coming from Eric's breath, and the twisting water began to sink down in the air, with no more energy to churn, no more wind to turn, and no more water to burn. The liquid died out, still trying to twist as hard as it could, but in the end, it just became a pool of water on the floor, allowing more snow to fall. The bright redness of the screeching heat dissolved, returning the original colors back to everything like a finally caught robber.

"So it's the water you control," he finally realized, still standing in his place in the huge hole he had created with the earlier explosion. His clothes were sopping wet, the colors' tones all darkened and heavy.

"Yeah, you got it," Walter told him, both Eric and Walter giving each other mean glares.

PoVS

"I still think it's disgusting how you just took out all of her available energy like that," Marissa told me as we ran through the drifting snowy weather, leaving our footprints behind to help Rick out in case he needed it.

"Listen, you're going to have to deal with lots more stuff than my Ingrain skill from now on, okay?" Dylan told her, running frantically through the snow, breathing hard and letting out a stream of breath swim in the air, his speed even faster than usual thanks to the energy absorbed from that Kontora girl, making hard for Marissa and Jeremy to catch up.

"Guys we have trouble," Jeremy said, not giving Marissa a chance to reply to what Dylan told her. His notice was sudden. Dylan wondered what it could be.

"What kind of trouble?" Marissa asked almost immediately, running side by side with Dylan, who also was listening hard to what Jeremy had to say. They ran against the cold air, running as fast as they could.

"Look," Jeremy replied, stopping in his tracks on the snow, holding up his golden locket that showed the twelve piece pie chart, his expression dim and saddened. He held it as steady as he could, trying not to go into a state of hysterical panic.

"What?" Dylan said, stopping a few feet away from Jeremy, also stopping in his tracks in the cold, white blanket of snow. No one had to answer the question for him. Right after Dylan and Marissa had turned to look at the locket, they all ready knew they were in even more trouble and panic. Depicted on the pie chart, were two different pieces from Rick's and Marissa's Minor piece, glowing brightly and blinking intensely, one shining red and one shining blue.

"We… have to get out of here fast," Dylan said, stating the obvious as they began running with even more speed than before to Rick, kicking the snow with every footstep in every direction thought possible.

PoVS

Yes, almost finished, the cloaked man thought in the darkness of the privacy in his room. He sat silently in the small area that was totally covered with bacterial sewer water. He sat in the waters, his waist down dipping into the cold liquid. Calming Process eighty-seven percent complete, he thought as he felt his body return to a normal state, the energy of the new skill he had gained growing weak and stopping to resist the process.

Once I'm done, I'll go after Walter. He'll be my first taste of Half-Spirit, the white hooded man said, cackling evilly in his mind, and half his mind drifting away in meditation. The dim waters he was in gave no room for sight, but he didn't need it. He would find away out of there. And he couldn't wait.


	14. Chapter 14

It took me about three floors to get my trap ready. I climbed the stairs frantically, fully aware that Glory might be right on my tail. Finally on the fourth floor, I pulled open the door with all my strength and ran down the hall. The fourth floor hallway looked exactly like the first floor one. I felt like we were moving back in time, almost.

I could feel the bones cracking in my back, just inching for their turn to shine. They shouldn't worry, though. They'll play their role very soon. As soon as Glory walks through that door, they'll shine like none other attack.

As if on cue, a zooming figure came into the hallway through the staircase doors, rushing towards me with amazing speed. I activated my attack, behind forward, my hands and knees on the floor, and back shown upward.

Glory appeared right by my side, attempting to strike his blade through my back, but it was too late for him. Thin and narrow pale bones came bursting out of my back, ripping and tearing through my clothes, millions of them protruding at once like I was some kind of porcupine. Glory managed to duck out of the way and began to dodge each one of them, being pushed back by my needling attack and pressed up against the hall way wall.

"Tricky," he told me in his deep voice. "But it's not going to work," he said, pressing the bone that pinned his scarf to the wall with his purple glowing blade, a huge hole being created in the bone, like it was decaying. The bone started hissing steam out, the purple energy taking over when it finally died out and became nothing but a purple bubbling pool of liquid on the floor while Glory finally got back to the floor.

"Poison?" I asked indistinctively as I watched barely with my head turned forward as far as I could make it forward.

"Smart one," he complimented me with no heart whatsoever. "These bones are nothing compared to my poison," he said, walking forward towards me, the source of the foresting bones. He sliced and cut everything in his path as he walked, more hissing and steam coming from the thin bones, all of them seeming to hiss like snakes in unison and scream in pain, becoming nothing but a chorus of screeching slime on the over cleaned hospital floors. Everything in this scene was pale except Glory, who stood out with his brown scarf and mummified costume, his blonde hair showing out more than anything else.

The forest of white soon melted into a sea of purple, nothing left but smoking pools of poison left on the tiled floors.

"Looks like my attack didn't work out as well as I thought it would," I told him, standing back up to a steady stand, the leftover bone towers that weren't cut crawling back into my back with a cracking sound, turning back into calcium in my body.

"That's what happens when you underestimate me. You die," Glory told him, zooming towards me with an amazing speed. I stared in confusion as I wondered on what to do next. I forgot to make a backup plan this time, I realized. Then it happened.

Stopping Glory right in his tracks, from out the shadows of the hospital, came tens of black, ebony ropes that tied Glory right in his place. I wondered who caused it. I know I didn't. I couldn't do things like that. Then who did?

Glory cursed under his breath and tried to free himself, but the ropes seemed to sticky protruding from the ground that he couldn't move at all. "What is this?" Glory demanded in an agonic voice.

"Like it? I learned it just now," a voice came from the ends of the next hallway. I turned to my right to find the patient who I had just recently worked on standing in his clothes again, out of his room and seemingly controlling the shadow ropes.

"You…" I told him, giving him a knowing stare.

"What? Aren't you happy I saved you?" he asked me, standing tall, as if his bones really weren't broken. He should've taken a long rest after I operated on him. This guy had guts. Other patients I knew with the condition he had would've collapsed and would be spilling out blood intensively. But this guy looked like he had no problems at all.

"I'll take it from here," I told him unthankfully, even though I really was thankful. It wasn't like me to show emotion. I didn't want to show weakness was the reason. I disappeared from sight and reappeared behind Glory, then kicked him the hardest I could, with hard, thorny spikes coming from the ends of my boots that shot him like bullets through his back, the shadow ropes' hold releasing and causing him to fly through the air, and eventually into the window, breaking it into shards that fell to the new fallen snow with his body along with them. He didn't fall with a yell, he actually fell silently and gracefully until there was a loud crash heard below.

"Ooh, you think that's going to hurt?" the patient asked me. What was his name again? I tried to remember. Derek?

"Derek," I told him, turning to him. He looked at me with a kind of "what" face. "You should be in bed."

He laughed. "Yeah I guess so. I'll be back in bed," he said, turning around and waving goodbye, walking down the corridor and into his room again. Wasn't a nurse supposed to be with him? I sighed. What has this hospital come to? I thought deep in my mind as I examined the broken glass of the large window, letting in snow and cold wind. I'll get it repaired later, I decided. For now, I had to check on Derek to see if he had any problems from getting up by himself.

PoVS

More blood continued to pool around various parts of my body, intensely streaking down my skin like I was up against a waterfall that crashed above me. I was lost in the gray sword dust of Minoshi's, my mind feeling light headed.

As I walked indistinctively through the inches of snow, trying not to trip, I soaked the white blankets red with my blood, my body suffocating and feeling like I was unable to breathe. "Your… dust," I choked out in a raspy voice, walking unsteadily, trying to find my way out. "It eats away…skin?" I rasped out, my voice hoarse and heavy like a dead person's.

"Ah, that's right. You've finally figured it out, haven't you?" a voice called out to me from deep inside the cloud of smoke. "My short twin blades, Kawakiretsu, meaning 'Shell Cracker' can eat away any defenses the enemy has just by touching my opponent. After it eats away any shells or shields, it starts going straight to the enemy's skin, and sometimes during the process bits of your clothes are eaten away, too. It even hurts like hell when you try breathing it in," he said, clearing the smoke away from me and towards him. "The good part is that it doesn't hurt me, since I'm the user. Get it now?" he lectured me while I was half dead, my back bent and feet barely keeping my stance steady.

He was right. Holes were in my clothes that let blood streaks be seen, my skin all bloody and red, practically no one being able to tell my skin color anymore just by looking at me. I must've looked like a monster.

"Oh, yeah, and something else. There's another part to my Kawakiretsu. It causes internal breathing while forcing its smoke and dust through the person's nostrils, mouth, and any other openings it can find. Want to see it?" he asked me, the dust being swept back in like a vacuum by the swords again, revealing Minoshi's absent look of sympathy for me, the cigarette still not done. He must've lit another one.

The cold snow and air cooled my bloody body, my head feeling unconscious. I couldn't answer his question, nor could I talk anymore. I was dead at this point. "Chuushin Kentanka! Core Glutton" Minoshi declared, waving his swords in a different pattern this time and sending a stream of smoke in the air, like a powerful blast from a cannon. The dust was thick, it was almost solid, and it was going to eat me alive when, just then, something stopped it.

A huge wall of vines acting like a hand and stopping it from getting any closer to me emerged from the snow. What? I thought in my mind, still unable to speak.

"You think we'd just let you die here?" Dylan's voice behind me said. I couldn't answer his question. His voice seemed so distant, so far away. I couldn't hear anything anymore. Or see anything. I dropped to the floor, feeling dead.

PoVS

"Rick!" Marissa's voice cried out, her eyes welling up with water.

"It's okay," I told her. "We'll get him to the hospital soon."

She was about to break down and cry into the snow when Minoshi called out to us. "Hey! You forgetting about something here?" he asked, turning my attention back to him.

He drew back his attack into his blades, leaving my wall of vines limp and useless on the floor, just like Rick seemed to be. I could feel small tears rise in my eyes, too, as I tried to comfort Marissa and try to make her not have an emotional breakdown.

"Dylan, we have to get out of here," Jeremy said, tugging at my sweater sleeve with bold, wet eyes.

"I know! I just – there's too many things we have to handle right now, all right?" I snapped at him meanly, immediately apologizing after that. What else was I supposed to do? I cracked under pressure. First we had to worry about Derek in the hospital, then we have to worry about finding two more Minors after we all ready found two, and now we have to get Rick to the hospital, too? What, is history repeating itself in a matter of minutes or something? "Okay, Jeremy, just where are those guys anyway?" I asked, a little calmer now.

"Well, they're at…" he couldn't finish his sentence. He had a look of surprise mixed with horror, his eyes widened and pupils' diameters shortened. He stared at the golden locket's screen in fear, his voice caught in his throat.

"What? What, Jeremy, what is it?" I asked him, frantic to find out what he was so scared about.

"It says one of them is unavailable, unable to track anymore…. and the other one…" his voice got caught in his throat.

"What? Where's the other one?" I asked in a panicked voice, Marissa watching our horrid chat.

"He's right… here," he told us, turning his look forward, his look frozen in panic, mouth wide open,, ignoring the falling snow onto his nose and hair.

"What?" I asked him, as astonished as he is, my eyes shaking wildly.

"Hey," a voice called out to us. It wasn't Minoshi. He was too busy yawning, I think. It was another voice coming from the entrance.

Minoshi turned around to find a kid our age with brown hair and a black jacket calling out to him. "What? What about that guy? You left him there?" he asked, provoking him with the moving cigarette in his mouth.

PoVS

"Left him there? Well, I'd say he's taken care of…" I told Minoshi, making up the excuse on the spot. If I had told him what really happened. He'd just laugh in my face. I can't tell anyone, I realized. Not one soul. I'm not even sure who I am anymore after that fight. But it's not like I ever did know, actually. I guess I'm just… still lost.

"Jeremy, which one is the Minor?" some guy asked this kid, both looking horrified. Minor? What was that? I wondered. Are they making fun of us? Looks like Minoshi didn't do such a good job here, after all. Even though there was that one guy lying on the floor bleeding like a river, a pool of blood circling him entirely. That should be me, I thought, staring hard with a mean stare.

The kid couldn't talk. He looked like he was in some kind of a shock. Jeez, what's wrong with that kid? He was just standing there, wide-eyed and mouthed, saying nothing.

"Jeremy, are you okay? Don't worry, Rick will be fine. Don't worry about it!" this girl told the kid, leaning down to his height. Rick, huh? That's the name of the guy whote got killed?

"Hey," I turned my attention to Minoshi. "What's going on?"

"Shut up, new kid," he scoffed at me. I gave him a mean stare. "They're just crying over some dead boyfriend," he talked with his hand stuffed into his baggy jean pockets and his cigarette moving up and down as his words progressed.

"It's… that one… that one over there," that kid, Jeremy, said through a choked voice, his eyes still wide with fear. What the hell was wrong with him?

The other two guys looked at me with a strange look. "You're working with Minoshi?" one of them asked me, the boy.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" I asked them. Have I become famous or something? What's wrong?

"This day has gone totally wrong," the blonde girl said, shaking her head with tears streaking down her face, the lighter snowfall than before collected through her tears, hitchhiking.

"What the hell is wrong with you, bitch? Why are you crying like a bunch of babies?" I yelled at them, pissed at their weakness in heart.

"Shut up you!" the girl shot back. Her shriek was so loud, it was ear piercing. It even broke the air like a whip did. I stared in astonishment as she began to tell me everything calmly. Everything about White Cloak and what Minors were, and everything beyond that point in her most weepy voice. Her eyes reflected any light source with the water that came in her eyes. She had to stop between sentences for a short sob and sniffs, but I didn't mind. I didn't pay attention to those. All I paid attention to was her story.

"What… What the hell? You're telling me I'm a Minor? And that White Cloak is out to get me?" I asked them in a rising voice.

"Damn it," I heard Minoshi mumble. I stared at him with shocked eyes, as if I had been shot, having the same look just like that Jeremy kid. "So now you know," Minoshi told me, continuing to smoke his lungs off.

"So… it's true?" I asked, my voice starting to shake as well, my voice cracking. That's how I really got my powers?

"Yeah, it's too bad though," he added, sighing, letting out more smoke out into the air. "Now I have to kill you, before you join them, too." He shifted his blades and swung them in the air wildly. "Die!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the snow.

"That won't be necessary right now," a new voice moved into the group. Everyone stared to the entrance as we saw the cloaked man standing there, his cape fluttering with the wind ominously and his hood blocking any view to his identity. A dented red gem was held in place to keep his cloak together at the chest, the white of the garments he wore somehow standing out from the snow.

"White Cloak," Minoshi said in a scoffed voice. "Surprised to see you here," he said, turning to him with an evil smile.

"White Cloak! Tell me!" I snapped at him in a loud voice I never knew I had. "Am I one of those Minor guys that got power from the Half Spirit that you want to kill so you can take out their power and use it for them? Are you really just using me so you can kill me?!"

White Cloak seemed to stall. He just stood their, his cape fluttering to the right with no wind blowing. His mysterious look scared me, and I immediately regretted yelling at him. But I had to find out. If he was really going to take my life away. If he was really going against me just like everyone else I knew, then what? I wouldn't know what I'd do. Everyone stared with me in unison. The two other teens wide-eyed and amazed, that kid Jeremy's pupils so small they looked like tiny dots of snow, my emotionally vulnerable stare, and Minoshi's 'tell him like it is' narrowed look.

"You've finally figured it out, huh?" the ominous voice of White Cloak told me. No! No! Why does everyone have to do this to me! Why? Why can't I find someone who stays in my life, ever!? "No matter," he told me. "Your life will be taken out right now anyway."

"No! I won't let you. I hate you. How could you betray me like that, after I've told you all the pain I've been through?" I screamed at him with all my heart, everyone listening, no tears to show.

"Shut up," he told me. That's all. "Shut up." I felt like punching him out, but I knew I couldn't take someone of his level on. I'd kill myself. "I never cared about your past anyway. It was just another interesting story to keep me busy. If you thought I cared for you and your life, you're wrong." His voice was deep and raw, so scary it could've belonged to an undead demon. "Now, get here you half spirit!"

He ran towards me with not such an amazing speed, but when he jumped into the air, he began floating, and zoomed towards me like a bullet. I knew immediately that I was dead.

"_That_ won't be necessary, White Cloak," another new voice came into the scene.

White Cloak and I looked behind me, White Cloak's flight stoping in midair. I saw a portal of some sort. It was orange and green, and in front of it stood a woman. A girl with violet-black hair, two big things of it going down in front of her ears, the rest of it short and spiky at the ends, her eyes mean and tomboy-like, and her clothes a silver and white robe.

"You…" I heard White Cloak's creepy voice mutter, the sound echoing off the snowfall.

"Yeah, it's been a long time hasn't it?" the woman said. "I didn't get a chance to meet you when you began this whole thing," she said, standing in the snow proud and tall, her thin and slender body looking tough and her face type looking like a person in their mid-twenties. Behind her, there was a sword case, black and curvy; looking dangerous even though it hasn't been drawn.

Behind her and the portal, there was that kid Jeremy, holding some kind of locket thing, looking as happy as ever, a total change from before, and the relief and safety look swept over the other two teens' faces. But now what? Was there some kind of unknown conflict between White Cloak and this girl?

It was a long time until White Cloak replied. He just hovered in the air with the cape fluttering wildly. "It's been a long time…" he rasped out. "Kinzoku Shihou."

"Well, well, looks like you do remember my name after all," she said, taking out her blade. It was released with a dangerous _SHWEEENG_ as Shihou held it in her hands, the metal blade looking as tough and cool as she was.

"Think again if you're planning to kill the Water Minor," she told White Cloak, who didn't reply to her declaration. She knew me? How did she know me? What was going on? Who am I now? Am I Minor? Or some guy who's going to die? Does this girl who's older than me care for me? My mind was filled with thoughts, even though usually they weren't. I was usually expressionless, kind of antisocial. I thought I might gain power through White Cloak. Turns out I was wrong. I was always wrong. Would she be one of the new people in my life I could finally trust?


	15. Chapter 15

Shihou held the three foot blade in her hands tighter, the snow beginning to cake her hair and the metal of the sword glimmering from the light of the surrounding carnival machines, the curved blade threatening with its silver and black colors, looking all new and powerful.

She held it with both of her gloved hands and a mean stare, the sword in front of her, protruding like a thin steel horn.

"Shihou!" Jeremy declared gaspingly and happily, raising his back a little. Shihou could tell that he was glad to see her.

"Huh? Just who is she?" Marissa asked behind Shihou, posing a slightly confused mixed with fear look on her face.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Shihou interrupted in a serious voice, her eyes round and kind, yet strong and ones of a fighter's. "I am Kinzoku Shihou, the Metal Council, and this is Ubuge Kenshiki Soft Pride, my trustworthy blade." As she mentioned the long, sharp sword, she lifted it up towards her, the thin blade pointing straight up to the snowy winter sky; it seemed to glimmer from top to bottom, looking ready to slice something into pieces.

As the somewhat blue reflection of light faded away, she turned it, the side facing White Cloak, and in the thin metal of the blade could be seen another reflection. A human's reflection. But it wasn't the reflection of Walter, or White Cloak, or Minoshi, either. It was someone else's. A reflection from a person that seemed to be giving it off even though his actual presence wasn't there.

The reflection was on the sword, all metallic and flat, just like the blade's surface, a line of light still on the top lining of the sword. The reflection showed on both sides of the sword, and had the image of a little boy, probably about five years old. The picture didn't show all of his body, just the direct middle strip of the person.

No one could tell White Cloak's emotion under that dark, shady hood, but everyone could tell that he showed a mean, disrespectful look hidden beneath that limited darkness of the ebony blanket. He stood there, watching as if a statue, the middle and ends of his cloak fluttering magically even without the wind to guide it softly like magical hands doing a puppet show. "Well if it isn't that sword. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" White Cloak muttered in a whispered voice. He was uninterested that a council was there. All he cared about was his prize.

"Don't joke around, White Cloak," Shihou told him in a serious voice, gripping the ends of the sword tighter, a long, white, flag-like sash whipping with the wind, tied to the very end of the handle.

"Ah? And why not? Have you lost that sense of humor just because of what I did to you so long ago?" White Cloak whispered evilly, sounding like an insecure ghost.

"Shut up! Be serious! I will never forget what you did to me. Take this fight seriously or else avenging my family will only take a second," Shihou snapped at him, gripping the sword handle even tighter than before, so hard now that it hurt.

"That's right you know," the phenomenal reflection portrayed on the metal blade said in an echoing, bottled voice, as if he really was trapped inside the sword, like he was banished or something.

White Cloak didn't reply. Or was it that he didn't feel like replying?

"Let's go, brother!" Shihou said, shifting her feet in the snow, all eyes on her.

"Brother?" Dylan asked in a soft voice to Jeremy, who didn't reply in order to keep his watch on the fight like it was some kind of sporting event.

"Yeah," came the reply from the blade, Shihou swinging it in the air, the reflection disappearing and the blade being thrown like an arrow from a bow, the deadly blade flying in midair and its long white sash being thrown along with it, connecting the blade to Shihou's hand. Faster than the wind, it flew at lightning speed, racing in White Cloak's direction.

The hooded man didn't move from his position hovering in the air, only a few feet away from Walter, who was also watching. In a flash, her flying sword was deflected, spinning upwards in the air, the sash fluttering and the attack failing, sparks flying from metal and a deflected noise created. The three foot blade fell down, limp on the cold white snow and Shihou drew it back in, posing a sort of angry face as her expression, reeling her attack back in with the white sash.

In the spot where it was deflected stood Minoshi, tall and tough with the cigarette smoke still steaming, his grin still evil, and his blades still devilish. "Let's see which one of our swords is better," he declared, his grin not wiped from his mouth, the cigarette weak and half dead. "My Kawakiretsu or your Ubuge Kenshiki."

White Cloak stood there, almost looking interested about what was going to happen. Suddenly, as if to declare the beginning of the battle between Minoshi and Shihou, the snow stopped shedding off the sky, the white speckles gone to rest.

Ignoring the change in weather, Shihou thought. I'll get him out of the way, then appear from behind and uppercut White Cloak, she planned out strategically, putting a battle pose on.

As if ignoring the fight, White Cloak began drawing Scholary Circles. Scholary is the study of arts learned through reading books to learn spells and skills of different variations. The kind of power White Cloak wanted. But it took a lot of stamina to become a Scholar. It was extremely hard and took years of training. Shihou's father was a Scholar as well. Until…

"Like I'll let you draw those circles!" Shihou shouted, ready to take him down. The blade of her Ubuge Kenshiki began glowing silver, its light jumping from the reflective snow and surroundings, the strong glimmer giving a kind of silent hum throughout the scene, looking dangerous and ready to show something off, like it was just getting ready, charging up.

"Don't ignore me!" Minoshi demanded strictly, practically praying for attention with his rejected narrow eyes. "Chuushin Kentanka!"

The smoke came out from the swords like a backwards vacuum, spilling the spiral motioned smoke into the snowy grounds, traveling towards Shihou while crawling like a snake crawling and hovering in the air. It left behind trails of wisps and black as it traversed closer to Shihou, threatening it with its silent puffs.

"Don't get in the way!" Shihou demanded back, the sword glowing brighter now. "Enchoku Katto! Vertical Slash!" she yelled, swinging her blade upwards, releasing a huge vertical wave of bright silver, like lightning crashing into the snow. The bright silver energy cut through its path, spilling snow randomly in every direction.

It soon collided with the snaking smoke, exploding the entire attack, a loud screech as it made impact on the solid-looking cloud. The collision made snowy dust rise into the air, clearing only a second later.

Just as soon as the attack hit, Minoshi's Kawakiretsu twin swords broke, a large crack running down the middle of the short blades, spilling nooks and crannies of metal onto the snow, the lost pieces becoming lost and invisible for the rest of time.

Minoshi uttered a surprised gasp. His mouth opened so wide, the cigarette fell out of his mouth and cooled down in its new surroundings of snow below. He shifted his feet back like he was about to run away, his expression on his face no longer showy, angry, and tough. Now it was utter shock and a hint of fear in his widened eyes.

"Idiot. You should've known better than to go up against someone with a level that surpasses yours by more than enough," White Cloak criticized, hovering in the air like some kind of suspended scarecrow. Minoshi didn't reply. He just stood there, looking at his broken twin blades. "I've seen you've grown to care for those things too much. I should've never given them to you," White Cloak said, making Minoshi turn back and give him an even more surprised gasp. His mouth was wider this time. "Stop whimpering and get Kontora. She's trapped due north," White Cloak rasped out unsympathetically, still drawing the circles with tracings of light like he did back then in the Inner World, or also known as the Council's Dimension.

The color and mean texture returned to Minoshi's face as he mumbled something under his breath reluctantly, then disappearing from sight to follow orders.

Just as he left, White Cloak finished the last circle. "Now, you…" he said, turning to Walter.

Walter turned to White Cloak to find him a few feet away from him in the air, widening his eyes so large and his pupil turning so small, it looked absolutely abnormal. Stress and tension built in his body, making him stand straight up. Then, the tension level crashed down, and Walter had a more slant back now, and his eyes returned to normal size, his stare uncaring and mean like Derek's or Eric's. "What?" he asked him finally, his voice blank and unenthusiastic.

"You're mine," he said, taking his gloved hand from beneath the fluttering cloak and tapping the red gem that held the cape together in the front, placing his finger in the dent where there seemed to be a piece missing.

Shihou narrowed her eyes, preparing her mind and soul for battle. Something's not right, she noticed. "Stay back!" she told Dylan and the others, getting her sword ready again.

"I see that there's more than one Minor," White Cloak told Shihou, trying to get her tenser about the fact that she had so many lives to protect. She looked to the left and saw Walter, staring hard at him. To the right she saw Rick's body on the floor, bloody with a nauseating ocean of blood circling him. We have to get that guy out of here fast, Shihou thought. To the back, she saw Dylan and Marissa, looking like they were strong and could protect Jeremy, who was staring in hope that Shihou would win this fight, and possibly watching to see if Walter was going to be safe.

Hopefully, he won't go berserk in case something happens, Shihou thought. We could b in big trouble if he does. "You're not laying one finger on the others," she said in confidence. "Metarikku Hei!" Metallic Wall she declared, sticking her blade hard into the white snow, stabbing it while more, similar blades to that of the Ubuge Kenshiki rose from the ground in front of Dylan and the others, shielding them with four feet of long blades, about a million there blocking their sight but providing security.

As if reading Shihou's deep, inner thoughts, Dylan made vines crumble from the snow, the white blankets coming off of them as they emerged, taking Rick's body away from the bloody lake and behind the wall of metal for safety. His body caked the vines with his bloodas they carried him for a moment of five seconds, leaving Walter alone.

Suddenly, the red gem that White Cloak had tapped a while ago began glowing wildly, releasing red light into the snowy grounds, spilling its color like a mythical energy. White Cloak's garments began fluttering even more wildly, revealing his white suit underneath and gloved hands and boots, showing the power rate of his skills now.

"Like I'm letting you get stronger by the second!" Shihou said sarcastically, striking another silver vertical wave through the snow and crashing right into White Cloak. The path it followed could be seen as a deep line in the snowy grounds that were full of footprints. The attack hit White Cloak with what seemed to be a direct hit, and created a cloud of dust and smoke in the air that would take to be cleared a little longer than the past one.

White Cloak flew out of the clouding dust, emerging smoothly while the dust tried to claw at him, to get him back. He headed to Walter with a normal flight speed; one similar to a regular bird's that you see everyday on the streets, pecking their little beaks on the ground in search for food. The glowing of the red gem had stopped and he was so close to Walter, who didn't seem to want to move at all when Shihou appeared from nowhere, jumping in between the two people, stopping White Cloak's flight with a threatening blade.

White Cloak stopped in his flight track so he wouldn't run right into the blade. "You think that's going to stop me?" he said, diving into the blade again. This time, he phased right through the sword and right past Shihou like some sort of ghost, using a skill he had learned to do long ago.

"You think _that's _going to stop _me_?" Shihou said, unsurprised of what just happened, turning around to face Walter and White Cloak who were so close now they could breathe on each other's necks. She swung her blade wildly, declaring, "Spirit Cutter!" A lace of a cut from a sword could be seen travel right through White Cloak as his flight direction shifted and spun wildly, falling back to the ground.

Shihou walked to White Cloak's position on the floor, sort of ignoring Walter. Her sword charged up in silver energy again as she said, "It doesn't matter whether you're in spirit form or not. My brother can cut through anything." She told him these words with a mean and proud stare. The hum of the glowing blade singing a chorus of hope in agreement to her words. "Now, die!" she declared, holding the sword up, the glowing blade facing White Cloak's limp position on the floor, forcing the glowing weapon down into his chest.

In a flash, White Cloak disappeared, leaving nothing but snow as a target, escaping the attack as swift as a cheetah. The sword stuck straight through the snow as Shihou pulled it back up, releasing snow in dust form as she gripped the handle tightly in her black gloved hands.

Shihou sensed White Cloak's position behind her, and turned to attack him. White Cloak blocked with some sort of crystal shield in one hand, and a crystal pillar that acted like a sword in the other. The crystal like substance was light and icy blue. It even looked like frosty ice without being as cold. He took the sword and began swinging it, Shihou blocking all the attacks with her own blade and its potential, the two swords meeting together between the two characters as if shaking hands.

They kept following the blocking and attacking strategy until thirty seconds later when the reflection of the five year old child came back again as the swords swung wildly in every direction thought possible to the human race, ready to talk and give comments again.

"You've grown weak, White Cloak. Why are you holding back? You don't seem yourself," the image told him, being swung against the crystal blade wildly like the weapon he was.

White Cloak didn't reply. He just kept blocking attacks, looking for a chance to attack. But he never found one. "Time to end this infinite sword-striking and blocking," Shihou said, the image agreeing by nodding his head. "Crescent Horizon!" she declared, swinging her blade horizontally, letting a silver wave slice through the air this time and not the snow, crashing right into White Cloak, leaving a bloody mark across his chest.

He jumped back many feet and felt the open, red wound with his hand, the crystal weapons shrinking back into his body strangely. "I thought getting Walter might've been easier. No matter. I have a better plan," he said, disappeared and fading from sight.

Shihou gasped, putting her hand out, trying to tell him to wait. But he wouldn't have followed anyway. She looked down and closed her eyes. She sighed as she said, "He went away." Walter gave her a somewhat caring stare as she released the wall of blades that protected Dylan and the rest of them.

"Let's go!" Jeremy said, running up to Shihou and taking her hand, pulling her towards the entrance of the carnival with a stressed look on his face.

"What? Why? Do you have any idea where he went?" Shihou asked Jeremy wide-eyed, surprised to see that someone had the answer.

"Yes! The other Minor! He's in the hospital and he's helpless! Let's go, now!" he declared, leaving her and running towards the entrance, Dylan and Marissa following his action.

"I guess that means you, too," Shihou said, turning to Walter. He didn't reply, just nodded his head in agreement, but also looking like he didn't care what happened next.

They ran off, and began pacing through the snow, Shihou taking Rick's limp and half dead body in her arms. His condition is serious. Just what can White Cloak do? She wondered her thoughts as she ran to catch up with the others.

Now, they were in the snowy path that lead from the carnival to the hospital, pacing as fast as they could. As they walked, they also talked. "You guys stay safe. Your lives could be in major danger," she warned, running with the blade back in its case, her clothes and equipment going up and down with her running motion as did everyone else. "And Jeremy," she said, turning to left to see his questioning stare.

"Good job on finding so many Minors in such a short amount of time. You almost have half," she said, turning back. In the corner of her eye, she saw that Jeremy posed a happy look on his face, as if he had found something he had been looking for that took so long to find. And maybe, he really did.

It only took them a while for them to reach the hospital. They never found White Cloak in their path walking there, but the hospital gave off an eerie sense that you would definitely know that he was there if you were in front of the building like they were.

They stopped to find someone lying on the floor, his body limp and glass and snow covered all over him. "Glory!" Walter muttered under his breath.

"Friend of yours?" Shihou asked, turning to him with a straight back.

"Used to be," Walter said, unsympathetic for the could-be-dead for all he cared teammate. But were they really teammates now that Walter knew the truth? Even Walter himself couldn't answer that question.

They all looked up at once to find a huge, broken window in the front of the hospital building. "Up there," Shihou declared, fading from sight and appearing at the floor at which the broken window was.

"Wait!" Dylan said a little too late. Great. How were they supposed to get up there now?

Up on the fourth floor, through Shihou's eyes could be seen a completely bright scene lit by white lights. Only a few feet away from Shihou, who was right in front of the broken window standing in a few broken shards of glass was White Cloak holding up some young looking man, the light coming from his center body and other than that, mainly from his mouth and eyes. His head was laid back and mouth was wide open, he looked completely dead, only that there was an ominous white light that came from his body as White Cloak's hands touched his neck, wrapping his fingers around it, and holding his body up in the air, choking him and making him hover only a few inches above the ground.

Shihou watched in horror as she felt like she couldn't do anything to stop it. In White Cloak's selfish, gloved hands was the throat of a person with white, pony tailed hair. She immediately knew it wasn't the Minor, but… she couldn't help feeling sorrow and nauseous for the guy. White energy was flowing from his mouth and into White Cloak's chest as he absorbed the power from the guy. On the floor right beside the scene, his face painted white from the light of the absorption was a black spiky haired teenager, just sitting there helplessly as he watched, mouth wide open and eyes sad and hopeless.

"Damn it," White Cloak muttered. "I tried to get the Minor but… this guy… got in the way."

The light spilled everywhere, even to the open wound that Shihou made on him and even on his face so his victim could see his attacker's identity before he died.

Behind Shihou, the rest of the group arrived on floating pads of thick, white snow that Walter controlled, allowing them to see the scene.

"What's going on? That…That's not a Minor is he? Who is he?" Jeremy asked, curled up in a ball, his breath streaming up in the air while he pleaded for answers on the hard, pressurized snow.

"He's the doctor! He had bone control powers, but they weren't Minor powers," Dylan answered Jeremy, both of them watching the scene in horror.

That doctor… he has power, also. And he's discovered it, unlike me. But why isn't Shihou fighting? Why isn't Shihou trying to stop White Cloak from absorbing those powers? Does she not care? Just because the man's not a Minor? Does that mean that if I were to lose my undiscovered powers, she wouldn't care?

Moments later of watching what seemed to be a scene stuck in time, White Cloak finally finished, and nothing was left of the doctor but a pile of dust. The bright lights went away, and White Cloak stood there, adjusting. "Now I can't take anymore powers… How sad…But I'll get you… I'll get you, just you wait. If it weren't for the stupid five-step rule of absorbing powers, all of you would be dead right now, instead of that doctor," he said, turning to each and every one of us.

As he finished up his speech, he left, his appearance fading away, his presence no longer present. He just left them there, unguided. Now, it seemed like they were the ones frozen in time. And we couldn't do a single thing about that. We just pushed back the importance of Derek's safety, or Rick's deathly condition, everything. Everything was swept from their minds… and Jeremy felt himself beginning to lose it all.


	16. Chapter 16

The cold wind given from the broken window blew against my neck, trying to numb me with its freezing, demonic touch. I sat on the pressurized patch of snow next to Dylan, magically floating on it in midair while Dylan was standing, and watched the scene stand still in time.

Shihou, looking disappointed and angry clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, her hold in her fists so tight it looked like the handle of the sword was about to break off. Even the mighty blade itself began shaking.

She yelled out of fury and swung her sword once wildly, letting out her anger. A silver strike came from the blade and crashed into the opposite wall, creating a deep cut in the plaster and dust to rise. The look in her eyes was one of a wild beast. She didn't look herself. She just looked too… frustrated.

She began gasping for breath, pissed off that she couldn't do anything. "Calm down, sister. Being mad won't help anyone. We have to get that Minor to safety, remember?" the reflection on the blade reappeared, referring to Rick, who was lying on his own bed of snow, making it red like he had some kind of magic touch that turned everything bloody. He lay there unconsciously and half dead and Shihou knew as well as the next person that Rick's safety came first.

"Yeah, all right," she said, stopping her gasps for breath like she didn't have enough, locking up her anger in a bottle deep inside her body. Her body began to calm down and less tense and tightened up. "Thank you, brother," she told the reflection without looking at it by her side.

As if in another world, Jeremy stared at the pile of dust on the floor. Derek was right behind it, but Jeremy didn't seem to notice him. Only that dust. That grey, pale dust. The dust that used to be a person.

I mean, to be able to turn a human into something totally useless and unnoticed in a matter of seconds and by a single touch, just for power… is that what White Cloak could really do? Jeremy thought in his mind.

A semi-strong wind blew in the room, filling the whole floor with chilly air. Slowly, it lifted the pile of dust, each and every particle becoming one with the wind and floating freely like a decoration on a Christmas tree. It blew towards the broken window, where the rest of the group still outside by it, flying past my face, coming so close to Jeremy as if trying to contact him, to feel him for the first time.

Jeremy sat, expressions widened, ignoring the cold snow that was touching his legs and numbing them, and tried to feel the dust, to try and catch it in his hands as it blew by his face. Jeremy finally caught some, but even when he clutched it in his hands, the wind blew it away in such a graceful and angelic way, that it hurt so much to be forced to let go inside. It's hard to believe that that dust that flew away, all gone, used to be a human being, and used to be someone special and important with a mind and emotion of his own. Used to have loved ones just like I have, and had it all gone in just a matter of moments. It's just too hard to believe. If White Cloak could do this to anyone he wanted, then what are we _really_ in store for in the future? Just what? Jeremy thought in a rage through his mind.

Several minutes later, they had found a hospital room for Rick after finding the hospital workers hiding in a room. They had asked us where the doctor was, and we had to tell them the truth. They were hurt and most of them didn't really believe us first, but when everything was all cleared up, they were happy to help Rick out anyway. Marissa went with the doctors who went to operate on Rick. She said she just had to be with him. Why? Good question. Even I don't know. We got Derek off the floor, too, and he explained everything to us while we did the same for him.

Now they were all in Derek's hospital room, sitting around him as he sat in his comfortable white bed. He needed some rest. He shouldn't have gotten up in the first place. At least that's what the doctors said.

"So, what about the other Minor?" Dylan's voice asked me, the owner of the voice turning to Jeremy to watch him as he replied to him.

"Huh?" Jeremy asked him, looking up to find him staring right at him with his bright green eyes. He had disrupted Jeremy's deep thinking, but Jeremy knew he had to answer him on the spot. I couldn't just leave him hanging, he guessed..

"You know. You said before there were two Minors. One of them was this guy over here," he said, turning to Walter. Everyone in the room looked to him and he gave a wandering, mean stare back. Then everyone turned back to Jeremy. "And the other one is…?"

Everyone watched, looking interested. "Oh. Right. I… don't know," Jeremy told them, unfocused on the question. But I told them the right answer anyway. So I didn't really care, he thought in his mind.

"What do you mean? Check the locket," Shihou told me, sitting on the floor by Walter, who seemed totally uninterested in the conversation at all. But Jeremy was sure he was listening. He was definitely listening.

"I did," Jeremy told them, sighing his words out. They couldn't detect the depression and urge to go back to my own thoughts that was rolled into his voice.. "It says unavailable information."

"No way… could White Cloak have?" Derek interrupted from his place on the bed, everyone else surrounding him on the floor and two on a chair.

"No. If he was able to take the doctor's powers, then most likely not. There's a rule in Scholary that states after you learn a new skill you have to take a five step process after learning it, and while you do that, you can't take any more powers in," Shihou explained, her dull but strict voice making the conversation more ominous and serious.

"Then what could have happened?" Dylan asked, gripping the handles on the uncomfortable chair he had sat in before all the fighting business when he was worrying about Derek's safety.

"I don't know… It's strange… the locket's not supposed to do that," Shihou explained, her eyes wandering to the side. Behind the scene and through the window, the snow began falling hard again, as if going back in time. "But… more importantly," she started a new subject, turning to Walter.

Walter noticed her stare on his back and turned around with his mean glance to find her staring right back at him. "What?" he asked in a dull and deep voice.

"Well? Are you going to help the rest of us and get rid of White Cloak?" Shihou interrogated, everyone listening for his answer, getting their hopes up. Walter could feel their excited energy rise up around the room. Except Jeremy. Something was bothering him, Walter could tell. He's seen the look of depression all his life. Before answering her question, he looked to the little boy, just sitting there against the wall in front of the bed, looking down, and deep in thought just like Walter had been for most of his life. Reminds me when I was a little kid, Walter thought.

Walter thought hard about his decision. Well… these guys almost beat White Cloak, proving that they're strong. And I really can't go back to him now, not after what he did to me. I guess it's just another thing on my list to get rid of when I get enough power. And also, I could probably gain the power I need through these guys. "All right," he replied finally, ending everyone's hopeful fingers and thoughts, turning around to look at the wall blankly, staring deep into space for his thoughts, just like Jeremy, as if ignoring them.

"Yeah!" a sudden outburst came from Dylan. "Welcome aboard!" he answered, just a bit too excitedly. What an idiot, Walter thought, looking down on him. He didn't reply to his hysteria and pretended as if he didn't hear Dylan. And Dylan didn't really seem to care, either.

I turned away from my thoughts only for a second to look at Walter. He was, too, having the same look in his eyes as I did when I was deep in thought. Strange, I realized in my mind. I can compare every Minor in this room to their council counterpart except this guy. He's nothing like Tsukansu, I thought. Did the Half Spirit make a mistake choosing this one?

"Jeremy, I need to speak with you," Shihou's voice interrupted yet again. Jeremy turned to find Shihou staring right at him with fighter like eyes. He gulped down the depression in his heart and answered.

"Yes?" Jeremy said, about to get up.

"Don't," Shihou said, reading my Jeremy's then closing her eyes. "That won't be necessary."

Jeremy obeyed and sat back down, ready to hear what she had to say to him, but still a hidden urge in his heart to go back to his thoughts. Why won't everyone just leave me alone? Jeremy thought in the corners of his mind as he waited for Shihou to say something to him.

"I'm going to have to take Dylan and Marissa back to the Inner World. Dylan is the Minor so far with the most experience with you and the whole Minors, while Marissa is the one with the least. We need everyone to go at the same pace, so we're taking them. Is that all right?" Shihou explained, reopening her eyes, and then staring to Dylan, then everyone else in the room in a circled pattern of sight.

"All right," Jeremy said, looking like he didn't care about what happened whatsoever for the first time in his life.

"It's all right Jeremy-san!" Dylan said, reading Jeremy's inner emotions with too much enthusiasm. "We'll see each other after you get the seven Minors left out there."

Shihou flashed a knowing look, somewhat smiling, tilting her head. "Yeah, okay," was all Jeremy replied with. You'd think Dylan would've been hurt after that uncaring comment, but he wasn't. Jeremy guessed it was because he knew inside he cared about him.

"And also," Shihou said, getting up and coming towards Jeremy. "I need to give you this." She went up to him and threw down a big, brown pack that had one strap on it used to connect from you left shoulder all the way down to your right hip. It landed with a clatter, the sound of glass clinking inside.

Jeremy looked to the side of him to find the brown bag, somewhat wondering what it was. "What is it?" he asked her up front, looking up to Shihou, who was much taller than him at this rate.

"It's a bag the Council filled with cure bottles of all kinds. Use it whenever someone is injured. You never know what kind of dangerous affects White Cloak's workers might have," she said, turning away and sitting back down in her place next to Walter, who was still staring at the wall and into space.

"All right," Jeremy answered, some enthusiasm coming back to his face.

Walter thought deeply as he heard the clatter of glass. Should I tell them about Eric? He might've been one of us. No, not just yet, he decided. I want to get to know these people first before I tell them anything.

"Okay, so, where do we go from here?" Derek asked in his regular clothes, the bandages still wrapped around his chest underneath.

"We have to wait until Rick rests up. Then go to Sabaku no Yomi and leave Hanayuki town. Got it?" she instructed from her place on the ground, everyone having the same thought in their heads.

"Sabaku no Yomi? You mean Hell Desert? Why? What for?" Jeremy said, suddenly having a feeling in his heart resisting going, his sentences all coming out as questions.

"Tsukansu is waiting for you with a surprise. Just make sure not to make him wait so long. You know how impatient he gets," she said, flashing a happy smile. That was her first happy sign of the day, Jeremy realized.

Why does that sound so familiar? Jeremy asked himself. Sabaku no Yomi… why do I have such an urge to stay away form that place? Why do I have such a bad feeling about it?

"Too bad I'm going to miss it," Dylan said, with a little too much of sadness. Why was he acting like such a kid all of a sudden? Jeremy wondered in his mind.

"A surprise?" I asked Shihou, staring at her with wondrous eyes. She didn't say anything back. She just kept smiling. I wonder what kind of surprise it is…

Suddenly, there came a person from the door and stating, "Kumoyama Rick is ready for more visitors. You may go see him if you want. He is located at room 314." Then, silently, she left the room, leaving everyone's stares, even Walter's, on the green painted hospital door.

When that nurse made her entrance, she seemed to be sniffing out her words. It was like she was crying. Even her eyes were welled up with water. Jeremy could've seen it in the reflective light. Was she crying for the doctor? Would people cry for me if I died a death like his? I wouldn't know, was all I had as an answer.

PoVS

"How's the pain? Is it fading away?" Marissa asked, trying to prevent herself from crying from seeing Rick's body all bloodied up like that.

"Yeah, it's healing," Rick answered, sitting comfortable in the hospital sheets. Bandages and ointment had been wrapped all around him. The whiteness of the room was blinding, the lights spilling brightness everywhere. The doctors had stopped his bleeding and rebuilt his skin using special skills. They had to use the Medical Scholars for that trick. I almost lost my life, Rick thought. He had a white cross style bandage on the top of his right cheek, and bandages with ointment on his arms, legs, back, and chest. Even with skilled Scholars to help, the wounds were hard to heal. The bandages were a necessity.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Marissa and Rick looked through the glass window pane of the old hospital door and saw Shihou's eyes peer back through the glass.

"Come in," Marissa told them, kneeling down by Rick's place in his bed, her arms on the bed next to his body.

Shihou followed direction, and so did everyone else. The people poured in, even Walter who walked with a lazy pace. "Hi Rick!" shouted Dylan. Someone's had too much sugar, Rick thought happily as he figured out that these people cared about him.

"How you feeling?" Jeremy asked, walking up to his side. Rick looked to his left to find Jeremy right next to him. "I'm fine, thanks for asking," Rick replied, being serious with his cheery and handsome eyes that matched his wavy and towards-the-front hair. "Where's that other guy?" Rick asked, giving his stare to the others in front of the bed. "What was his name? Derek?"

"Derek is resting. He's in his room upstairs. He needs to heal just like you," came his reply from Shihou and her serious voice.

"I see," Rick replied, his eyes turning away from everyone else.

"How are you, Marissa? Are you okay?" Dylan asked, a little less hyper.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she said, standing up like everyone else except Rick, who couldn't stand up. Dylan could've sword he saw her wipe away tears a little.

"Well, tell us. What was Rick's condition?" Jeremy asked, looking around for any X-Rays to indicate his status, finding nothing except his heart rate monitor which was beeping normally.

"It's not really bad," Rick answered for Marissa. "I lost lots of blood and skin, but they replaced it using Scholary. So in the end, it wasn't that serious. This hospital really is something, isn't it?" Rick asked, looking up to the ceiling lights that glared his eyes.

"Yeah… they really are something," Jeremy replied, the look of hard thinking returning to his face.

An hour later, we found ourselves outside the hospital, the night dark and dead. Everything was quiet and lonely just like in the daytime, and unlike before no one was having a heart attack from fighting so much. No one had White Cloak on their mind, which was good.

Derek and Rick had rested up and could walk now. They were almost in perfect condition, and the doctors told them that it would get better over the next week.

As we left, we had that sense of feeling of separating. Our large group was about to get smaller, I thought.

"Okay, it was nice meeting you guys," Shihou said, walking in front of us, facing our direction. "But I have to go back to the Inner World. There's too much work to do. Dylan, Marissa, shall we?" she asked, turning to them with greeting eyes.

"Shall we what?" Marissa asked, confused.

"Oh, we forgot to tell you. You have to go with Shihou to the Inner World. Its better that way, and they have to prepare you for everything in the future," Jeremy explained, tugging on Marissa's arm as she listened quietly.

"And also, we can't have too many Minors in the Outer World because who knows what might happen if White Cloak shows up. Jeremy can only take care of a few people at once, you know?" Shihou informed, laughing with a happy smile, as if she had just been proposed.

"Oh… I see. Okay, I guess it's all right then. When do we go?" Marissa asked, accepting Shihou's decision as a Council.

"Right now, of course," came her reply. Marissa gave a sharp gasp, but drew it back in as she slowly accepted Shihou's decision once again. Jeremy could sense her disappointment but couldn't understand why. Who would she be missing?

We stood in the cold snow, everyone in front of Shihou, who opened up a portal before our very eyes, one much like the one she came through. Our breaths streamed up in the air as we breathed, all of us watching the portal, getting ready to say goodbye.

"Bye!" Dylan told me, then to everyone else, and walking up to the portal. He gave us one last look that seemed to be made out especially to me as he put one leg in, the whole thing disappearing all together. Then he completely walked in, his presence no longer with us.

"Goodbye everyone," Marissa said, waving her hand in the air. "And goodbye to you too, Rick," she said, practically running past everyone else and hugging him.

The sudden hug attack took him by surprise, and then began hurting his body, as it was just recovered. "I'm sorry," she said. Ironically, she held him tighter. He began wincing and felt like choking to death. Her beautiful streaks of brown-blonde hair fluttered softly in the air as the gentle wind passed by. Rick stopped his look of surprise and turned it into a happy one.

'It's okay, we'll see each other later on," he said. He wrapped his arms around her the best he could and gave a short hug to Marissa, who was about four inches shorter than him. After, she began crying, but sobbed a happy cry, and wiped away a tear as she ran in.

Everyone had the same look and thought in their head at the sight of Marissa getting emotional over Rick. "Goodbye, everyone!" Shihou shouted out, her warm breath streaming up in the air and swimming away, waving her gloved hand in the air, and then finally, stepping into the portal, leaving us with our task.

"Well, I guess we should probably start heading for Sabaku no Yom," Derek told me, pacing forward towards the town entrance.

I gulped. I didn't want to go, but I knew I had to. As we were about to walk down the road that lead to the exit of this snowy city, I looked to everyone's face. Three new ones to get used to, I thought. It'd be weird without having Dylan around, I thought, running off into the snowy road, knowing that Walter, Rick, and Derek would be following.


	17. Chapter 17

The rest of the group and I had been walking through the sandy dunes of the area right by Sabaku no Yomi. It was just getting hot, and cloudless sky seemed to be moving away from the sun above, the bright circled veiled with a halo of light while shining upon us, glazing the air and tanned sand with a growing heat. It seemed like we were walking through wasteland, everyone around me beginning to sweat, even that little kid, Jeremy.

We paced through the unsteady land slowly, trying to prevent the sand from getting in our feet, and being cooked by the sun intensely. It's strange, I thought. Only a few couple of miles ago when we began walking was the place all snowy and cold. Now we're trapped in a desert wasteland, with no air to breath except the shaking, frightened heat. This world really needs a reality check, I thought.

I looked up at the sun, my three "strands" of hair blocking some of the sunbeams and providing shade for one of my eyes, my brown, mysterious stare glimmering in the light. The sun must be lonely, I figured, looking at its high position in the sky. Loneliness. Is that something I would have to experience again? I thought, looking to the other two Minors surrounding me, and then the small kid who was dragging his feet in the back with a nervous, uneasy expression.

As the reality of being a Minor seeped into my head, I began thinking of the other seven ones we haven't found yet. Would they be like me, with minds not expecting what has happened to them at all? Would they be as mad and furious deep inside as I am? Or will they become my enemy? People who don't understand me at all? Only one way to find out, I told myself.

I felt like sighing. Why did I always think like that? I wondered. Always trying to get the future figured out, so I wouldn't have to be scared anymore? Why? I knew the answer, but I guess I didn't want it to be real. I didn't want the pain inside to be true and be locked in myself forever, like it's going to be with me forever. But I can't seem to imagine that ever happening. It'll never go away, and there's nothing I can do about it. But still, being human, I can't help but not want to remember it. But I did. I still remember all of it, so vividly like a dream, like a figment of my imagination. Except it wasn't just in my head. It was reality.

It's funny. When it all began, I thought it would turn out fine. I thought the growing problem would just go away, like everyone else had their lives. But I guess my life was just different. I wondered why for so long, but I could never find the answer. My problems just got worse and worse, in a way that was totally unexpected.

As we walked through what seemed to be the endless dunes of brown and tan sands, our faces spilled by the blazing sunlight and our bodies hot with the shaking air, I felt myself being sucked back into my memories. Deep back into my memories, a decade ago. When I was eight years old…

_"Mother, where is my life going?" I asked her, turning to the tall woman from my place on the wooden kitchen table chair. It was a sunny day in the village, and light poured in from the glass windows by the sink, where my mom worked so hard cleaning dishes and bowls with those bright, latex gloves she wore. From my point of view, she was wearing a maid's outfit, her hands gloved yellow and her hair held back. She was really working hard, as always._

_"Your life? Why, you don't have to know that just yet. You have many years ahead of you, and still plenty of time to find out," she told me without turning back to me, her voice kind and soft. The small wooden kitchen was filled with the scrubbing noise of my mother's sponge rubbing against the hard surface of all kinds of plates and forks. Once in a while, she would put down a utensil or plate on the table by the sink, the hard material clinking against the dry surface, all wet and shiny in the kitchen light._

_"Yes, I know, but I want to find out now. I have to find out, or I'll be confused forever," I told her in my high, friendly voice. I looked up to her with my big, bold eyes, my hand on the wooden chair's back support. Her arms continued to shrug and move in hard work as she thought carefully for an answer._

_"My, my!" a voice came in the kitchen. I turned around with my cheerful, friendly eyes to find my father standing at the kitchen's entrance, his back supporting the wooden door behind him, preventing it from closing. He had a long, intoxicated smirk with his old, deceiving eyes as he carried a sake bottle in his hand, and his wasted robe-like clothes all clean and spiffed up. "Since when should you care about your future? You're still young, you can waste your life for now for all I care," he said, entering the room and sitting at the table on the opposite side from me. _

_He pushed back the chair with a screech, set the orange sake bottle on the table and sat his lazy self down. His words hurt me so much. Did he really mean what he said? Did he really not care about me at all? Hints, and small hints at that began to show in my eyes. He didn't notice them, being the sloth that he was, but just looked at my mother in a perverted way, his fake wise eyes peering towards her with a wide grin about his cheeks._

_For someone who looks so much like me, he sure doesn't act like me, I thought. He had the same brown hair and eyes, except his strands of hair were in front of him, the large, thick hair pieces covering his face sometimes while mine were all the way to my right, and sometimes didn't cover my face at all. His face was long and old while mine was young and circular, all cheeky and new. He was half drunk, I could tell. The look in his eyes weren't right._

_"Stop it. Don't tell Walter-chan that. He just wants to know if he's going to become something, that's all," my mother told her husband, knowing that his look was on her. She continued scrubbing the dishes a little tenser now. I could hear it in the constant scrubbing. Right away, her words wiped the evil, lustful grin on his face and turned it into a serious, mean one._

_"Shut up! Don't you think I know how my child thinks?!" he outburst suddenly, screaming through the room, the sound of his voice echoing off the walls. He made me jump in my seat a little, and I soon realized I was scared of him. _

_The sudden yelling must've scared my mother, too, since she had dropped the plate she was washing into the sink as it crashed and broke into tiny and large shards over all over the sink's bottom. She stopped scrubbing, and didn't care to clean it up. She didn't turn around, either, to face the horrible behavior her husband was showing her. _

_"How can you know your child at all, if you use that language around that house?" was all she said in her quiet, less kind voice. She gripped the corners of the sink with her thin, gloved hands. "If you talk to us like that, how will we ever know that you love us like you said you would?" she told him, her voice almost cracking._

_I watched a horrible look grow on my father's face and felt bad for my mother, who had to deal with the monster my father had become. My father scoffed and got up angrily, the chair screeching as it moved across the floor backward. He left the sake bottle on the table and began walking towards the exit of the kitchen, making heavy steps as if about to knock something down and mumbled something under his breath as he pushed back the door and exited. Where he planned on going, we didn't know. But one side of our minds was glad that he had left._

_I looked to my mother to see her reaction. He had crushed her faith in their love, I saw. She began sniffing, and took off her yellow gloves. I felt like asking her where she was about to go, but I could tell she didn't want to be bothered. She put away the yellow latex gloves, leaving the chore of washing dishes unfinished, revealing her slender, healthy hands and wiped them on a cloth towel on the table by the sink. Then, she took the cloth and patted her eyes with it, sniffing once or twice in the process. And after, she left the room, using an exit different from which my father had used, leaving me alone with my thoughts._

_I felt a wave of guilt. Had I really caused all of that just now? It was my fault, wasn't it? I thought more questions in my mind as I heard steady footsteps go up the stairs. The soft, almost silent footsteps that belonged to my mother, leaving the kitchen room soundless with no more scrubbing to be heard, and no more argument to experience._

_Why must you be so hard on mother, father? I thought, wishing it would all stop. Why are you like this? You used to be so loving, so caring for all of us. But recently, you have changed. You would always come home drunk, and come home to abuse mother, sometimes even me. I still had that scar on my arm from that broken sake bottle you hit me with. I bet you don't even care anymore. I felt like I was about to cry as I remembered all the times he had come with gifts and smiles, hugging me, his only child and his glad wife. I remembered when I was five and he helped me learn my school work, being that the beginning was so hard for me. Without your advice, I wouldn't know what I would do. But its okay, I was sure that he would find his way back to normal. He had to. Otherwise… I don't know._

_I didn't feel comfortable sitting at the scene of a bad memory, so I decided to go outside. Little did I know that that the argument would be the best thing that happened to me today. I walked out of the house, and set myself down on the three stone steps, looking around the outside of the village of Mirusan. Outside, I saw these two kids playing football, throwing the ball back and forth. I remember my dad and me playing football. We had so much fun, it seemed endless. I would never play with anyone else other than my father. I guess it was because I was just too shy to ask anyone else. But now, he seems like he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. _

_I got tired of watching the two kids my age having fun and looked up to find the sun shining brightly in my eyes, its beams reaching the village barely through the cloudy skies above it, the white puffs' shape very much like a doughnut, the sun being the doughnut hole. _

_"Hey, could you go away? We don't really like people watching us play," said one of the kids as he caught the ball in his hands, the ball raggedy and narrow at its sides, the skin of it in good condition. _

_I looked up to find him staring right at me with a mean, bullying look. I immediately became scared and said nothing back, but got up and walked past my house, going away as they suggested. _

_I walked away from them and towards the thick forest that surrounded the village. I kept walking past the brown barks and green trees that were still covered with the morning dew, the leaves glimmering in the dim sunlight. I continued my pace until I found the three-man statue shrine of the village, standing there tall and unharmed in a large circle of grass where the trees were not dominant. I looked to see the middle man of the sculpture staring right at me in the eye, as if beckoning me to do something I didn't know how to do._

_The three-man shrine stood for the three warriors that were recorded in history that saved anyone they knew. My village, Mirusan, which means "To Watch Three," believes in the story and probably takes more out of it that any other village or town. _

_The story goes like this. Long ago, there were three warriors who worked together and would help the poor and save the helpless. Together, they would help even the strangest person, no matter how they looked, how they were, or how they acted. This was very rare back then, since it was the time before the Council came in, which was called the "Ebony Period" in time. In the Ebony Period, everyone was unruly, and didn't have values or priorities of their own and just didn't have any rules, so they did everything and anything they wanted These three warriors, though, did not follow everyone else's acts. They actually helped. _

_That was because these three men believed in these three things: Love, Destiny, and Truth. They had confidence, and power, and used it for the better reason. Years later, they created a monument in honor of these three men in a city that also represented their kindness. As a sign of appreciation, mostly everyone in the town had priorities and kindness just like the three warriors. Everyone except my father, that is. And maybe those kids from before. My father was worse, though. He didn't seem to have any priorities or love, destiny, and doesn't treat truth with the respect it should have anymore. He seemed like he didn't even belong in the village._

_I watched the late morning clouds open up and let the sunshine widen, beaming down more sunlight down to the forest and the statue. I walked up to the shrine and bowed my head in respect, then sat down in front of it, laying my head against the cold, marble stone. I looked up into the sky, and felt myself drift off carefully to sleep. Father, I thought, feeling my eyes heavy down. Where are you…? I finally closed my eyes, leaving my thought unanswered._

_When I woke up from the longest nap in the world, I looked up to the sky to find the crescent moon high in the sky. Being the first thing that I saw, it greeted me with its pale light, spreading it across the sky and wisps of clouds that were left alone in the air. Cold, night air surrounded me as I lifted my head, looking around to make sure everything was in place. I have to get home, I realized. Mother must be worried about me._

_I got up quickly, wiping the dust off my pants and began my way home. The branching trees clawed at my face, trying to pull me back, but I didn't obey this time. This time, there was something more important. I ran towards my house, which only took a few minutes, and ran inside, not spotting any sign of the kids playing football from before. I walked inside in a rush, deciding which way to look for her first._

_I finally decided the kitchen, and opened the wooden door wide. What I saw disturbed me. I found my mother, sitting at the kitchen table, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief and wearing her hair down. Her brown hair swung as she moved her head in order to keep patting her eyes with the towel, her stare crying red and her nose sniffing and sad._

_"Mother? What happened? Its okay, I'm here," I told her in a concerned, high voice. I ran up to her and put my arms around her, trying to comfort her. Her body felt warm against my arms that had been in the night air for who knows how long._

_"No, it's not that," she said, weeping. "I knew you were by the shrine long ago. But… But…" she couldn't finish her thought. She began weeping and crying out again, putting the cloth over her eyes as she whined in grief._

_"What? What happened?" I asked her, feeling like I should cry too even though I didn't know what happened. _

_"Your father…" she said, still unable to get a sentence out. The dim light of the kitchen provided little sight for the scene, the crescent moon with a ghostly shade of black around it visible from the glass window of the kitchen._

_"Father? What happened to father? Where is he? What did he do?" I asked, panicking, tears beginning to leak from my eyes._

_"The village… they killed him," she said, her voice was cracking loudly as the words came out of her mouth. _

_Right away she mentioned the word kill; my heart went into a state of horror. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, but instead, I had a cry attack. "What? What do you mean? Why?" I asked her loudly, but not meaning it in a mean why. I shook her body slightly as I spoke to her, drops of tears coming out of my eyes as I did so. The bottoms of my eyes began to get completely devoured in the tearing water._

_"He was… hurting people,," she said, sniffing, still unable to get one sentence out at least. "They killed him because he had all ready caused five deaths, and they had to kill him before he did anymore harm. What I don't understand is….is…" she couldn't finish that one either. She began crying again, weeping into her cloth like an animal, soaking it with her everlasting tears._

_Probably he was_

_drunk, I realized. And they killed him? Was he really going on a rampage killing? Where was his heart? Where had it gone to? I didn't say anything back, but just cried in my mother's arms, both of us hugging each other in the darkness. We sobbed and sobbed, but the pain never went away. "It's okay," I told her, not even myself believing the words I spoke, my voice cracking horribly in fear and sorrow. "It's okay."_

_She tried to speak, but she couldn't. Her facial expression was twisted into one that was completely abnormal, her features showing nothing but a heart broken. She shook her head, unable to get her voice out from her throat, telling me that it wasn't okay. But just as any good person would do so, I continued to tell her that it was okay, trying to get her faith back._

_I thought that was the end of that, but no. More horrible things happened. So much more. I mean a father's death I could actually learn to deal with. But as time went on, more bad things happened, and more of my heart got crushed. To lose one parent is enough…_

_But to lose everything else? That's beyond pain from the deepest wound on your flesh. That's pain from the deepest wound in your heart._


	18. Chapter 18

_The pain would never seem to go away, no matter how long I waited for it to heal. I guess the wound in my heart turned into a scar along the lonely nights and empty days. I eventually tried to lock the pain away in my heart, burying it with experience after experience, new memories after new memories as time went on. Because I knew that time would never stop for me, never give me a break. So I had to deal with it on my own under those conditions._

_I never did forget about father, the way he would always use to pat my back after I had done something to impress him, calling me "kid" all the time as we laughed and walked through hard roads in life together. I never forgot the way he would hug me during a thunderstorm when I was a child as I found myself crying in his long, caring arms. When he would tell me everything would be all right, and there was nothing to be scared of in the darkness. _

_But had he forgotten? It didn't matter anymore, I guess. He was dead. Dead. I kept repeating the words in my mind over and over again but it never sunk into my mind. He can't tell me to stop being scared of the darkness. He couldn't tell me nothing was there._

_So what now, father? What? I've been surrounded by darkness for the past two years. Can you still tell me to not be afraid? Can you still say there's nothing to be afraid of?_

_My mom's been taking it even worse than I have, though. Only a few weeks later after we found out what happened to father did she get sick. That was two years ago, and she still can't get out of bed. The doctors say there's no way to help her. It was some kind of sickness caused by depression that couldn't be helped. There was no cure._

_When graduation time came, she couldn't even come to school to see mel. I was ten, and graduating at ten was absolutely normal in this world. I was a good student, and wanted to run home to tell my mother all about the graduation._

_I raced through the damp grass, the dew still not dried from the careful blades, their wet touch caressing my feet as I ran home. The clouds were dark and horrid, the depressing grayness reigning the land. _

_Soon in my run home, it began to rain. The clouds above evil, and no sun pierced the clouds today. The black sea of puff above the town roared with crazed lightning, the angels and deities above taking their anger out with deafening crashes and flashing lights. The raindrops were heavy and wet my clothes, dampening them and adding weight. I began to ran with full speed anyway, the cold rain motivating me to go home._

_It only took me a while to realize what was going on. When I looked at my hand as my feet kept moving, I saw red. It wasn't blood, though. It was the rain. I slowed my pace and looked up to the sky to find drops of red rain coming down on me, landing on my skin like fake blood. Not good, I realized, still looking up to the sky as lightning above provided pep music for the attacking rain. I suddenly had a flashback of my father, telling me something I would remember all my life. I have experienced this rain before, I realized. One time, when it was raining just like this…_

_"Father, what is this rain? Why is it red and not normal?" I had asked him so long ago._

_"Ah," he said, noticing the red rain that was pouring from outside the window, putting his hand out to let the droplets gather in his concaved hand. "This rain is said to mean something or someone close to anyone in this village has disappeared, and will never be seen again. It's a bad omen, and there's no stopping it," he told me, bringing his hand back out from outside the window, and pouring the red water onto the ground, creating a pool of red that looked so much like blood. _

_I didn't reply to him that time, I just stared at him as he walked away down the hallway, and I turned back to watch the red drops. That day, I had watched the rain until it had completely disappeared, somehow hearing screams of people in the black fog that ruled outside._

_I returned to my present self, and began running again. My heartbeat began increasing. Just what was going on? What if something happened to mother? Was this omen meant for me? I had to find out._

_I ran home as fast as I could, my heart pounding in my chest and the rain soaking my clothes with red, giving hints of it one at a time. It seemed to cling on me, as if it were some kind of leeching demon that wanted to kill me slowly with its bloodthirsty touch. I breathed in and out damp air, its refreshing touch ignored by my panic. _

_As I ran, I heard nothing but the splashing of water from the rain and the crashing of thunder and rolling of clouds. I saw nothing but red rain fall from the sky, blocking my sight one drop at a time. I felt nothing but the cold air that surrounded me like the devil's tight grip around me. I smelled nothing but the sick smell of rain growing on the grass and garbage around me. I was totally unfocused. My mind was clouded, just like the deviant, prevailing clouds did to the one and only sun. Where were you now sun? You used to be so powerful. How can you, something so powerful be taken down so easily? More proof that the things that never frown will always eventually break down._

_I was soon near home, my shoes splashing through dark red puddles all the way. Ironically, approaching home made me anxious and panicky. I could feel eyes from their homes watching me through their yellow lit windows. When I finally reached the front of my home, something wasn't right._

_The house gave some kind of eerie feeling, which made my heart feel much faster. I noticed the door was open just a crack, as if someone had forgotten to close it. I gulped down a nervous knot in my throat, taking most of my effort to swallow it. I opened the wooden door a little more, the sound of a dead creak coming from it, like a phantom moaning in despair as its spirit was banished to the real world forever, unable to rest like the other spirits. _

_A dead silence from inside the house scared me even more, the lights not turned on at all, giving a more eerie touch to it, as if it were haunted. I decided that I couldn't be scared of things as much anymore. Mother needed my help to get through this time of her depression. And I had to enter that house no matter what!  
_

_I opened the door all the way, and almost immediately, I wished I hadn't._

_As more rain began to soak my clothes, my expression widened in a state of horror, waves of nausea hitting me one after another, my eyes shaking in a horrid way as they stared at the sight that was laid right in front of my eyes._

_The bright thunder crashed in the sky once more, providing light into the scene, making it more dreadful to look at. I fell backwards, my stare still locked on what was inside the house. My expression was frozen, never getting a chance to change or be liberated at the least._

_My stomach churned and churned, and I eventually threw up on the ground beside me, the warm, gooey liquid sticking to my lips, its foul odor dwelling on my tongue. I coughed hard, my body wanting to hurl out more. I stared back to the sight, knowing that I had to face it._

_It couldn't be true… it couldn't be. I looked one more time, and one more time was all I needed to ensure myself that it was indeed true. There, remaining stationary in the air, was my mother. But she wasn't normal. She wasn't right._

_The long, bed sheets that she had lived in for straight two years was wrapped around her neck, connecting to the ceiling light's shaft. Her expression was frozen in horror, her body dressed in a white nightgown. Her eyes were wide open, staring into blank space, thinking a thought only the dead could. Her feet hung disgustingly from the ends of her nightgown, the white scene looking ghostly, being framed by darkness._

_At the absence of blood, I didn't think that she could actually be… I couldn't admit what I thought to myself, even. Not even in my thoughts. Could she really be…? I couldn't think of anything to do in the pouring, freezing rain. So I ran. I ran and told everyone I could. I ran and screamed and continued running and screaming for the rest of my life. Now that I have lost my father, my mother, my home, what was I to do? The townspeople had no choice but to send me to live with my distant Uncle and Aunt who also lived in Mirusan. And they weren't exactly good people, either._

_Things were never the same again. And whenever it began to rain, I was never scared. No one ever had to tell me calm down and not be scared of the dark. Except whenever I saw the rain, I just had this one, repetitive thought. The thought that always spoke, "When can I turn back time?" _

_PoVS (Eight Years Later)_

_My Uncle and Aunt weren't ever respectful to me. I had never done anything to them, but they just… weren't good people. If you get what I'm saying._

_Uncle Hiboshi took care of me and fed me, yes. If you could call scraps of leftover rice and meat food. Having no friends and no family to care for me, I constantly locked myself in the room they had given me, probably the smallest room imaginable despite their big house. _

_Whenever I did something perfectly normal, like walking on the dirty, hardwood floors, Uncle Hiboshi would tell me, "Hey! I just cleaned those floors! Why the hell are you stepping on them, you freakin' idiot?" he always seemed to yell. Whenever he did, I would always look to the floor. The wood I was standing on was grimy and dark with dust, looking like it hadn't been cleaned for years. Then I would turn back to him, giving him a confused and mean stare, as if to call him crazy._

_Then he would tell me that he didn't like the look on my face. That it was disrespectful and I had to be punished for it. And then, he would take me to me to the backyard. It was always sunny outside when he did that. Sometimes, I got lucky and it was raining, so the pouring water could help others cloud the sound of cracking whips be heard. So I wouldn't hear it and concentrate on the cooling rain against my sore back as my own Uncle whipped me for walking around the house and looking at him._

_My aunt even did it, too, occasionally when she told me I hadn't finished my food, when in the first place she hadn't given me any. On the rainy days I was being abused, while no one cared, I focused on the rain and the rain only. My eyes too worn out to cry, my back too sore all ready to hurt. The rain had been my only companion. Even thought it would constantly leave me. But feeling the wet, cold touch always made me feel somewhat glad._

_The first times they did it, yes I was shocked. It was actually the first day I was at their house, where they told me that I couldn't be a bother and trouble to the household. I promised them that it wasn't a big deal, and I was a good kid. Then they "showed" me the backyard for the first time, telling me that I shouldn't compliment myself. So from that point on, I never really talked to them, sometimes afraid they would hurt me, and sometimes not giving a rat's ass of telling them anything at all._

_Whenever it rained, I would always wish that they would take me away. I always wished that I could be just like them, free to fall and do anything I wanted, swim through the cold air and never reaching the ones around me. I had gotten too used to crying over the years I had been at their house, so whenever they decided to whip me for no reason at all, just for their own enjoyment, I just followed them to the backyard. Sometimes they would follow me. And they would slash that thing at my back to their heart's content._

_I never cared anymore. The scars on my back would never heal, but we all have to sacrifice things in our life. I soon realized that they didn't love me. They didn't care about me. I only lived with them because they were my relatives. I only lived with them because I had no choice. No. That's wrong. I did have a choice. And I used it._

_At the age of eighteen, eight years after I had found my mother dead after she had commit suicide, I decided to take my things and leave. It wasn't that hard, seeing as how they didn't give me much things anyway. All I had was my journal which I wrote in everyday, just jotting down thoughts, not of hate, or hope. I didn't have hope. I only wrote my thoughts. My neutral thoughts of the world. My philosophy, I guess. And my clothes, the ones I was wearing the only set I had. They decided to burn all my past possessions, saying that I had to let go. But I knew why they really burned it. They needed to feed the fire. They needed to make more fire… with my memories. They chose to give the fire **my **memories instead of the spare firewood that was in five stacks by the fireplace. _

_When I had left, I was sure they wouldn't miss me. I wouldn't miss them, either. I thought that, I had to leave, too, since I had lost all faith in what the village believed in. I didn't care about the truth. The truth hurt. I didn't care about love. I had none of that. And I sure as hell didn't care about my destiny. Since I still didn't know where my life was going. No one had ever answered the question I had asked my mother when she was still alive, before my father had died. No. Not died. Killed was more like it._

_Leaving the village, I looked back at it all, trying to remember any good memories I had of it. As I counted the few I had left, none of them making my spirits higher, I just decided to leave, bringing nothing with me but a jacket. _

_But something was wrong. The day right after, after spending the night in the forest, I realized I was missing something. My philosophy journal. My only possession that belonged to my mind. So I went back to the dreadful place to try and retrieve it._

_When I did, I never guessed what I was in store for. Actually, it just made my life worse, getting that stupid old book._

_RETURN TO STORY_

_I walked through the forest quietly, watching my steps. If anyone sees me, I'll be dead. I'm sure they know by now that I'm gone, I thought. I placed my large, boyish hands on the wood of the trees, the soft bark not comforting at all. Not welcoming to the forest._

_I was high up on a hill, looking down on the village area as the sun shone high in the sky, providing the fakest hope I've ever glared up at. I ran quickly down the hill, no one outside to notice me. The village was small, anyway the ground lush and green, the houses wooden and old._

_I soon found myself in the hallway of the dreaded home, remembering all the times I had walked through this place to get to the backyard, unable to forget the horrible things they said and did to me, and unable to remember any good memories since there were none._

_I quickly ran into my room and got it out, and I was halfway out the door when I noticed something. There, on a low, glass table, I saw a book of some sort. Of the eight years I've been in this house, I've never seen that book._

_It was wide open and had my Aunt's handwriting on it. I picked it up, holding the small booklet-like thing in my hands, and began reading:_

_Journal,_

_Walter has run away from the village. It's about time. I began to wonder what he would do, consuming all of our money and food. I guess his whole clan is gone from Mirusan now. His dumbass of a father got himself killed, and Walter thinks his mother had commit suicide. Suicide my ass. _

_It had felt really good kill that bitch. What can I say? Void Core and I were running out of people to kill. I actually feel a bit sad that I killed her on her son's graduation, though. Well, it's not like she cared about him enough to go to the damned thing, anyway. What a useless mother. That's why I've been planning to kill her for so long, I'm sure it had been ages. I just couldn't wait. Hiboshi wanted to do the honors, but I killed her way before he could get a finger on her. Hah, my husband is getting much too slow._

_Too bad there was no blood, though. It would've been more fun with blood spilled all over the floor. And if there was, it would've probably given poor baby Walter a heart attack. Well I say good riddance. Now we don't have to deal with the pestering Kasumi Clan anymore. _

_Signed, Hiboshi's one and only wife, Sankuro._

_I clenched my fist. I crumbled the small book in my hands, crushing the paper. I grit my teeth and a mean expression spread across my face. Sankuro… works for Void Core? The assassin group that kills just for fun? And she killed my mother, and insulted my whole family, when she's part of it as well! This woman… I want to kill her… I want revenge. But I don't have enough power, I realized. That's right. I don't have enough power. I'll have to get it then…_

_With murderous thoughts running through my mind, I set the first thing on my revenge list, searching for any kind of way I could gain power to get revenge on my family. Heartless. Completely heartless is what the fucking bitch is. I'll kill her, and my uncle. Just wait. I'll kill them. _

_I thought more dreadful thoughts as I ran off into the woods, bringing my philosophy journal along with me, heading to the town of Hanayuki where I thought I might start a new life. And eventually, I did_


	19. Chapter 19

.The hot fizzing sun would never stop blazing in the sky. I guess it's finally time to stop remembering the past and think of the future. I'll finally get that power I need to get rid of people like Sankuro and Hiboshi, and help people for once. I need to rid the world of groups like Void Core.

We kept walking like snails, dragging our feet across the fragile sand dunes. The blonde one and black haired one were ahead, walking along side with me while the kid was looking like he was dying. He looked like he was in pain, unable to drag his feet faster like the rest of us, none of the other two being able to notice him. His expression was frozen in horror, looking like he had seen someone die.

The air around us shook wildly, appearing to shiver in the outrageous heat. Hot sand was getting into my shoes, and beads of sweat would start to come down from my forehead. The desert seemed to never end, no sign of water anywhere. I was staring at the kid, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, until that blonde one interrupted my thoughts with a question.

"You all right?" he said, looking at me with a sweat drop running down the side of his face, showing that he was too cooked by the flaming sun. "It looked like you've been in a trance for the past half hour," he told me in the blazing heat, turning to me with his yellow eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. Why should I tell them anything? I can't trust them. Plus, they wouldn't care anyway. There was no use or point in telling them anything about myself.

"What's your name? Mine's Rick," he told me, putting out a hand to introduce himself, offering a shake. His hand was large, manly and sweaty. He put on a friendly smile which made my insides churn.

I looked at him suspiciously. Can I trust his stare? Is he hiding something behind those friendly, defending eyes? "Mine is Walter," I said, turning away from his hand as I resumed pacing. The fact of me ignoring his handshake didn't seem to bother him. He just drew it back and kept walking with the rest of us.

"Jeremy, you all right?" Derek, I guessed his name was, said as he turned to find the small child gripping his temples like he was having a major fever. I turned back and stared again with a bored look, wondering what he could be doing. "Jeremy, what's going on?" Derek repeated again, turning the other way to go to Jeremy's side, Rick turning around with a worried look as to what was going on.

PoVS

"Jeremy?" I heard someone's voice keep calling out to me. I think it was Derek who kept frantically calling my voice, but I couldn't seem to pay attention to him. Something was wrong. I tried to answer, but my voice kept getting caught in my throat. It was like all the sound from my body was gone. My words got caught in my chest, unable to get out. I had a major pain in my head, and all I could do was nothing as I looked to the worried faces of people around me and the shaking desert air surrounding us with its hot, burning touch. I felt churning in my stomach, and something burning inside my chest. Something was pounding inside me, like it wanted to get out, but I don't know what. Just being around this hot desert sand and the warm, beaming sun made me sick inside. I felt like it was hard to breathe for me, and the headache continued to grow. I felt something cold run down my lips and into my mouth, and almost immediately I tasted blood. I felt more of the cold, red liquid stream from my nose as everyone around me seemed to panic, except that Walter guy.

Unable to get one word out, my body began to sweat and I fell to my knees. The hot sand burned my forelegs and kneecaps as I tried to get rid of the horrible pain in trying to rip my body apart from the inside. What's going on? Why does this sand and sun bother me so much? What's this feeling inside me… that makes me panic?

I had no way of answering my questions, and felt like I was going to fall unconscious when all of sudden, pictures began to fill my mind. Memories, almost. The images flooded my mind, flashing from one to another, changing with every second. I was beginning to get lost in everyone's worried voices as the flashing images reigned my inner thoughts.

The images inside my mind portrayed a thing – a monster of some sort, in hot desert sand like the biggest thing you've ever seen. It growled and roared; swinging its large black tail against the sand dunes, crashing into them and making them fly everywhere. It made a black hole in front of him, which sucked in all the sand in the area as it thundered its huge, unbearable roar amongst the desert heat. With every image, my head began to fill with more and more, my mind beginning to get a bigger headache, and the feeling inside my chest beginning to grow and take over.

I felt myself quickly losing my mind, my senses going numb until I heard someone's voice call out to me. It was much louder this time, and I recognized it. But who was it? I couldn't decipher it. My eyes were closed in pain, providing no sight whatsoever for my eyes. Slowly, I was brought back to my usual state, lying on the desert grounds, sitting on my legs.

The headache began to die out as the voice continued to call out to me, the horrible pounding feeling inside me shrinking back down to the size of a seed. My mind slowly drifted back to normal, and I had control over my senses once again. "What… What happened?" I asked, looking up in a confused manner.

The voice had stopped calling out to me, and I realized who's it was. It was Rick's worried one. Of course, I thought. The other two were much too silent to talk as much as Rick would. "Jeremy-san! What's going on? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?" Rick said, putting both his hands on my shoulders, assuring me that everything was going to be okay when he, himself did not believe that very same thought.

"Yeah… I think so," I told them, feeling my forehead for any feverish difference. "I-I think it was just a headache," I stammered as I stumbled back on my feet, Rick's strong arms helping me back up. I looked up to Derek and Walter who had similar stares, looking at me in boredom. But I knew that inside, they really were worrying about me. Well, at least Derek. I really don't know much about Walter yet.

"It better be," Rick said, taking a piece of tissue out and wiping my mouth and upper lip, cleaning up the blood that had stopped streaming like a river. "Some weird reaction you have there," he told me, crumbling up the paper and putting it into the cure bag that Shihou had given us back at the hospital. "Maybe you should hold on to this, just in case something happens again," he said, giving me the bag.

I accepted the bag without much care and strapped it around my shoulder, the one long strap going across my chest. I still felt a small headache, but it wasn't as bad as before. I still felt we had to get out of there as fast as we could, though. "Shall we keep going?" Rick said, getting back up on his feet, wiping three drops of sweat from his forehead that was hidden by his blonde hair. He didn't look as blonde as other people, I realized. It was yellow, but it wasn't blonde. At least not exactly blonde.

He turned the other way and began walking again, and the other two followed, with me all the way in the back, trying hard to keep up with them and their teenage long legs. I felt weak but I knew that I couldn't stop moving. We had to get out as fast as we can. That was something I still believed through instinct. "How long have we been walking so far?" I asked them as I ran up to Derek's side, then stopped pacing so fast since I had finally caught up to their speed.

"About an hour I guess," Rick said, his lips seeming dry. His voice was choked out.

I breathed in the heavy, hot air of the desert as I paced across the unsteady ground below us. The sand slowly sunk into my boots which I was still wearing, no sign of wind in the air to caress us with its cool touch.

"So," I asked Rick, running past Derek and towards the side of Rick. He turned to me with a wondering look, glaring at me with friendly eyes that sometimes would remind me of Dylan and his hyperactive eyes. "Just what is your element? I know that Walter's water, and Derek's shadow, but I suddenly remembered, I've never seen you use yours yet, not even back at Hanayuki," I told him, giving him a friendly stare back which could've been identical to his.

He laughed. "That's right, isn't it? The last time I've used my powers, it was when I was trying to get your locket to start beeping so you would know we were around," he said in a realizing voice, Derek and Walter turning to watch him as he revealed his element, Derek looking curious and Walter looking like he looked down on him. I guess that was the difference between Derek and Walter's stares.

"Yeah, so what is it?" I said, pushing my slight headache to the back of my mind. I waited for him to tell us the element he had been chosen to be stuck with. What would it be? Fire? Earth? Would it be the Life one, like Shintenmaru?

"I guess you could call it… electricity," he told us, figuring out a good way to put it. Lightning? That was one of my favorites, I realized. He looked to me to watch my reaction. And he was pretty pleased.

"Great," I told him, giving him a knowing smile, tilting my head to one side.

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess," he said. That moment, I realized that by talking to each other, we had become a lot closer, and an addition to that would be that we didn't notice the heat around us.

"How well can you control it?" I asked him, wanting to keep the conversation going, but still interested in what he had to say.

"Not very good," he revealed the truth, looking kind of nervous to be telling us. "I had to work on it for days to get my powers to work enough so the locket would pick it up," he admitted.

"Its okay, Dylan was like that too, at first. Then he got better. So much better he actually saved Derek's life," I told him, making him feel better, but also seeming like I made Derek feel worse. I felt like I should apologize, but the stare he always gave off seemed too… unforgiving. Just like Hibiyomi, I thought. Great, more proof that the Half Spirits chose their own personalities. But one thing that still goes against that… is Walter.

I looked to Walter's side as he continued to walk silently, his eyes deep in thought and his movements not wasteful. Tsukansu seemed totally different than what Walter is. Tsukansu was wise and kind, sometimes shy and sometimes joking around. While Walter seemed to be mean, heartless, and his stare ruthless, like he wouldn't give the smallest being in the world mercy. I gulped down a nervous knot just looking at the guy. He scared me, but I knew that there was goodness inside his heart. I could easily sense it.

As my thoughts began to drift off, we all saw something that we thought would never come. The end of the desert! We saw the sands end at some point, and lead to a dry, rocky plain. We saw houses in the distance, the wind finally beginning to pick up a little. "Yes!" I heard Rick mumble under his breath.

"No more hot sand!" I shouted, jumping up in the air, feeling a head rush when I came back down on the unsteady sand.

"Don't cheer just yet, we're not even there," Derek said, bringing our hopes down.

But Rick countered that by saying: "So then, let's hurry up and get over there all ready!" He laughed as he said the words, turning back to us to look at our faces for a moment, then running off through the sand, not caring that it began to fill his sneakers.

I ran after him, and eventually Derek did, too. But something that made me worry was that Walter didn't follow suit. He didn't run with or after us in anyway. He just kept his normal walking pace, and eventually met us at the beginning of the town KuroSabaku.

When he finally caught up to us, dry wind blew across the town behind us as I watched the sign overhead of us that had the words "KUROSABAKU" swinging with the small wind the town had.

"What now?" Walter said, being the second time he had spoken in the whole trip, coming up to us with a mean stare. He didn't seem to mean his words at all. But if he wasn't interested in what was about to happen, then why would he ask?

"I guess we look for Tsukansu, the water council," I told them. I looked to Walter's facial expression as I told him this and his eyes went into shock for a second and a second only. His expression looked like it was meant to ask, "Water Council? As in, the original owner of the Water Free Spirit?"

The look I gave him shouted, "Yup!"

We continued to pace throughout the town, everyone following me for once, and I began to search all over for Tsukansu. There was no sign of him, and we eventually had to stop walking since we were tired. We had practically been walking for over an hour.

I plopped onto a rusty old bench on the city, the cold metal remaining cool to my skin even in the glazed sun above.

Rick put a hand up to block his eyes from the intense sun. He looked around, and then asked, "Where is that guy? Didn't Shihou-sama say that he would be here?"

"Yeah," I told him, lying on the bench lazily and hungry. I call being hungry a lot the "Dylan Disease." Wouldn't you agree? "But I can't find him anywhere," I told them, practically drooling with my head on the seat, my whole body covering the green dusty old bench.

We were in a clearing part of the plains, nothing around us but flat land. I guess this is where the kids usually come to play, but they were missing today. How come we can't get any trace that they're here anywhere? I asked myself in my thoughts.

As if on cue, we felt a strong wind blow by, which was abnormal considering that we were in a dry, desert-like area. Places like that don't usually get lots of breezes of wind. Only short puffs and huffs of air every now and then. But this wind was strong. It even knocked me off the bench a little, telling me to get off.

I got up on my feet as I heard a loud beeping noise from inside my clothes. The locket! I realized as my hair swung to the right because of the sudden raging winds. The howling of the gust tried to drown the siren out, but it failed.

The wind grew to such a high rate, it even blurred our sight and Rick and the rest of them were standing still, looking into the distance for any sign of what was causing the sudden wind blow.

I quickly took out the locket, fumbling with it in my hands for about the fifth time, and opened it. It usually opened with grace, but in unison to my panic, it seemed to open faster this time, like the lid of a cell phone. I tried hard to keep it from being blown away.

I looked at the screen of inside the locket, and saw the twelve piece chart again, seeing a white piece blink over and over again, as if desperately trying to give a seizure. Then I was taken to a map of land. The map showed lots of flat landforms, and showed little differences in elevation. It also showed a red blinking dot telling me once again where the Minor was, and according to the map, the Minor was only a few yards away from us. But we couldn't see him anywhere. Just where was he?

Then, all of a sudden, something could be seen far away. A twisting kind of wind that was carrying dust from the ground around it, gathering it like a crazed collector was coming toward us, twisting and turning like a cyclone.

We soon found ourselves wrapped in it, our clothes and hair swinging wildly inside the cyclone, the three other Minors trying to figure out what to do about it.

But there was no time to think. Just as the wind began to disappear and die out, the ground ahead of us only a few feet away broke into pieces, creating a hole large enough for a person to fit through.

"What the hell is going on here?" Derek said, looking angry.

From the hole could be seen someone's fist from underground. At first, I thought it was a dead body's, but when it began moving and lifted itself up from the hole, revealing a person followed by another, we knew that it was just some people fooling.

As the sun's light poured down on the six of us below, we saw another figure come into the picture, his image blocked by the sun behind him. But I knew who it was anyway just by tracing the outlines of his shadow.

"Hey," he called out, waving his hand.

"Tsukansu-sama!" I shouted in happiness, running past the other two teens and going up to him as he picked me up and swung me in the air, then placing me back down.

"Miss me?" he said, smiling and tilting his head. See? That's how Walter should be.

"Yeah!" I shouted in happiness, my small hands gripped around his shoulders. "But you came at the wrong time. A Minor just used his powers around here," I told him, putting a pouting look on my face hoping that Tsukansu would help us do it.

"Yeah, I know," he said, surprising the four of us. "Isn't it amazing? I've taught him how to basically control his element all ready, and my element isn't even wind!" he shouted happily, making me think that he was about to dance on his feet.

"What do you mean?" Rick said, interrupting the reunion between Tsukansu and I.

"I mean, these two are part of my surprise," he said, motioning for the two teenagers who had played around with us for a moment before to come closer. They followed, and stood side by side next to Tsukansu. "Meet Nonbiri Zachary," he said, pointing to one of the kids with a sky blue cap on.

The boy was wearing a white hoodie, but unlike Dylan's, his didn't have a zipper. His cap was on the right way like a baseball player's, his eyes blue and innocent. Tufts of carefree brown hair showed from beneath his sky blue cap, seeming to sway in the air. He gave a small nod to us, as if to say hi. The long sleeves of his white hoodie sweater were stuffed into the pocket where his hands would meet that was actually embedded into the hoodie at the bottom. "And this is Samakuro Mark," Tsukansu continued, pointing to the other teen.

This one looked a bit more interesting. His arms were wrapped in a kind of bandages up to the middle of his forearms. Only his fingers were shown, and he was wearing a brown traveler's vest with a collar that was unbent and reached the top of his neck. Underneath he wore a camo shirt, and he was wearing beige cargos. He looked really outdoorsy, and his eyes were round but mean, his mix of emerald green and brown eyes friendly and manly, and his brown hair shaped at the front. The front of his hair was made so long it was made into three long strands that were not as thick as Walter's, but three long strands of brown hair that went up, and pointed upwards, the top slanting towards the back of him. The rest of his hair was not long and was normal and short, like a regular person's.

I could tell just by looking at him that his body type was a fighter's, all athletic and strong, his tanned skin proving it even more.

Everyone exchanged looks, saying hi except Walter, who seemed to be staring straight at Tsukansu with his same old boring look. But you could tell that he was thinking something behind those brown, hazel-like eyes. "So let me get this straight," I told Tsukansu, turning back to him after saying hello to the, apparently two, new Minors. "You mean to say, that these two guys are Minors, and that's the 'surprise' Shihou was telling me to come here about?"

"No," he replied, smiling his young smile.

"What?" I asked him in a high pitched voice, getting confused. "What do you mean? You're making me puzzled," I told him, letting him know how I felt.

"These two aren't the surprise I was planning. It was _five_," he said with enthusiasm, as if to say "Ta-da!" He turned to me to look for an expression on my face. But he never found one. "Well?" he asked.

"But-," I told him, more baffled than ever.

"I know what you're thinking. If I say it's five, but you only see two, then what's the big idea, right? Well I sent three of them who weren't that strong yet to the Inner World. You'll be happy to know that the Metal, Earth, Wind, Ice, and Life Minors needn't to be worried about now. These two are part of the five main elements of the Council. That's why I decided to let them go search for the two Minors left with you," he explained to me, the second longest explanation I've heard in my life time. The first was the one Shintenmaru gave me when I was starting this whole thing.

"Okay, so if there's only two left, then which ones are those?" Derek asked, interested in the conversation as everyone listened for the answer. Including the two Minors that were going to join us on the little search we had left.

"That means…" I began, counting off the elements we had to find the two we needed to get. "That leaves Mind and Fire," I said, looking up to Tsukansu who was shining a Dylan like smile. I'm going to name that one Dylan Disease number two, I thought in my mind. Smiling too much.

"Got that right. You better hurry up. If they can hide from the Council, they've got to be pretty good. Maybe they're all ready skilled in using their power, so you better watch out. That's why I made four of the five Minors that belong to the five main elements, or the Base Elements to help you. I would've sent all five, but we're missing Fire, which is the last Base Element you need."

Ooh, that one makes the third longest explanation. "So what now?" I asked, confused on where to go now, realizing the large group we had now.

"Now, we take a rest. You guys can leave in the morning," he said, walking back to the town. "You'll need all the energy you have left for the last two."


	20. Chapter 20

Tsukansu and the rest of the Minors and I stayed that night at the hotel. We had a good dinner there, and the hotel staff was more than happy to provide service for a council. Tsukansu had told me something that was really important. He told me that the Fire Minor could not be tracked through the locket of mine, which is why the locket wouldn't tell me where the second Minor was when I tried to look it up back in Hanayuki when his powers went off.

He told me the only way to find them is to use the other four Base Minors, who could sense each other's presence. That was going to be hard, I realized. He also told us that for the other Minor left, the Mind Minor would be hard to get also. Mind would be by far the strongest yet and we had to be careful when approaching that one. He said we'd have to come with him in order to get her, and he knew where she was.

We exited the hospital after a good night's sleep, leaving the large building and into the dry plains during the afternoon. Tsukansu had overslept like he always had.

"What now?" Rick said, leaving the building last as he rubbed the sand out of his eyes, his clothes wrinkled.

"Now, we take the shortcut to Kinotoro City," Tsukansu told us, looking back to us in the early afternoon scene. He glanced at us with a clever look, none of us reacting except me, who was wide awake.

"What do you mean? There's a shortcut route to Kinotoro?" I asked, my voice silent and ready. I cleared my throat and breathed in cool, desert air.

"I mean," he began to tell us, putting his hand forward. Right away, a bright yellow portal opened up, swirling circles inside it, a ripple in the swaying desert air. He motioned for us to get in, and right away I knew what he meant by a shortcut. Rick's eyes were puzzled in confusion as to what the portal was for. It was obviously his first time seeing one. But he followed suit anyway.

I was the first who walked in, taking small steps, somewhat afraid of the big hole that vacuumed everything in. Immediately I was taken away into the blinding light, and then followed Walter, the one who seemed the least afraid. Then Derek, and finally the resistant Rick. The other two Minors came in at the same time, and then came in Tsukansu. We were surrounded by enigmatic, white surroundings. We all seemed to be totally lost, but we knew where we were going. We knew where we would get to in the end.

PoVS

My name is Miroku Teresa. My name is Miroku Teresa. My name is Miroku Teresa. I kept repeating the sentence over and over again, trying to get an idea of who I was, my mind drifting into the ebony corners of my thoughts. But it didn't help. It didn't heal the confusion to any scale.

I sat there in the white, completely blank room with pale surroundings, even the basic kindergarten books they had given me. The large room was white and glaring, only two windows to bring in extra light from the sun, the mystical sphere that beamed its sizzling intervention which could've been seen from the window. I sat there in the left hand corner of the room, right by the one of two windows.

I sat there, back against the wall and my body wrapped up in a beige straightjacket, only allowing movement of my legs. I felt trapped, completely helpless when I heard that loud banging on the metallic white door.

"Feeding time!" a man shouted as he impolitely swung open the door, then kicked a metal tray containing what they called a meal across the squeaky white floors, the tray ending up a few feet away. I looked at the thin metal tray for a second, the meal being a cup of water and some kind of porridge I didn't want to know what it was made of. I looked up to the guy who kicked the tray over with a loud clang, who gave me a mean, belittling stare as he slammed the door shut again, his steps being heard from far away. "Good meal!" he seemed to shout sarcastically from the outside corridor in a muffled voice. "It'll be your last," he scoffed.

I ignored his threat and sarcasm, and looked back to the plate of white, slimy porridge with sad, gleaming eyes, thinking of how the people in this Mental Institution treated me. How did they expect me to eat this with my arms stuck together? Why did they look down on us so much? Just because they believe the people trapped here were so out of our minds, does that mean they can look at us like that? I left the tray untouched, the gray metal standing out from the totally white surroundings that they've caged me in. Why did they believe I'm crazy? I'm not crazy. I have a right mind. If anything, crazy is one thing I'm not.

I peered out the window the best I could from my place in the dark corner, the light pouring in from the sun's rightful place embedded in the sky. Standing tall below the mighty sphere, I saw trees. Acres and acres of trees that surrounded the institute for miles, seeming to never end, caging me even more like a parrot in hell's underground asylum.

Is this my life? I thought. Being caged inside like some kind of wild animal? Being cuffed and keeping my arms tied together? Is this what I've become? Or has the world just made a mistake? They've told me I was crazy, that I was out of my mind just because of the things I saw, the truth I've told. And I'm finally starting to believe them sometimes. Sometimes, when I'm alone in the dark and no one there to talk to, I would sit there and think, and wonder that maybe, just maybe, that I really am what they say I am.

I looked to the cup of water, my violet eyes filled with wonder. Just who am I now? I've been labeled over and over with this name and that name, yet I've never found myself. Not knowing this makes me mad, I realized. Really mad. Just what is my purpose? What? What is it!? I asked constantly in my head, staring hard at the glass of water, my anger rising inside my body. Just what?!? I asked, feeling my anger go over the top.

As if on cue, the glass of water shattered out of nowhere, the water spilling all over the plate and the sound of glass breaking echoing off the empty walls, glass shards flying throughout various places in the room. They imploded, spreading across the room with great force, the shards unable to reach me for some reason.

What the hell? I wondered. What just happened? Did I cause that? I thought, looking at the pieces of glass on the floor all torn up and broken, reflecting the light from the sun like glitter that spilled from the window. It feels like forever I've been here, I thought. And I practically have. Just what am I? What have I become in such short notice? I thought deeply, unable to find the answer no matter how hard I tried.

Suddenly, there came another banging against the wall. A loud, disruptive bang that took me away from my thoughts. Then, the door flew open, revealing three men in white standing at the entrance, the middle one crossing his arms like he was the boss of the world, and the other two by his side like henchman. Both guys by his side looked lanky and small, while the middle one looked large and tough. "Guess what," the middle one said excitedly, his eyes crazed and bloodshot.

A wide smile grew on his face, as if happy with something no one knew about. "The federal government has decided that you are perfectly guilty and has chosen your death penalty to be taken into course right away."

Death penalty? No! No! I repeated. "No, wait! But I'm really not guilty!" I told them, yelling my words out, my eyes sad and reluctant. "I didn't do it! I swear I didn't do it! I didn't kill all those people! I can't die!" I shouted, tears welling up in my eyes for the first time in ages. "I don't know myself yet! I haven't found my purpose yet!" I told them, hoping they would believe my words, my soul feeling defenseless all locked up, my anger from before turning into sadness.

"Your purpose is to die," he replied, as if to be clever. He argued back, ignoring my desperateness. He seemed to grip his crossed arms tigheter.

"No! I won't go!" I yelled, telling them exactly how I felt, which is something I don't usually do.

"Don't screw around, kid," he told me, snapping his fingers. The two lanky ones by his side got out tranquilizer firers, ready to fire at any moment. "You're going whether you like it or not," he said, snapping his fingers again to indicate the shooting of tranquilizers at me.

"No!" I shouted, angry and sad with a mix of fear. I closed my eyes in horror as I heard the syringes fly through the air like darting hummingbirds, ready to begin the road to my unrightfully death. I winced as I prepared for the pain, the unbearable pain that would soon take over my body. But it never came. The hurt never spread throughout me like a raging fever. I wondered why.

I opened my eyes, ready for anything I might see. And what I saw continued to amaze me for the rest of my life. My eyes feeling like they were glowing purple, the tranquilizers were suspended in midair, as if frozen in time and space. I looked to them, trying to comprehend what happened in my believed to be psychotic mind. But I couldn't figure it out. What had happened?

The syringes began to get traced with purple outlines, seeming like a pen had traced its outside. The three men at the door stared in shock, their mouths wide open and the middle man giving a cold stare. I stared in horror, thinking like it was a trick to make me get unready for the raging pain, and wondering if it would continue to race against me again at any moment, but they didn't. Soon, the purple outlines began to take over, and the liquid inside could be seen shaking and bubbling in a craze.

Only a few seconds did they implode entirely, making a loud shattering noise of glass and the mixture of tranquilization spreading all over the floor like spilled blood.

"Don't stop!" the middle, tough one yelled. "Keep firing!" he demanded in an angry voice. Oh god no, how will I ever survive them? I saw the two lanky men fire a flood of syringes at me, the flying darts scaring me half to death. I felt scared and panicky all over mixed in with my overtaking anger. I felt just so dead at the fact that my life was at stake, I could've dropped dead. But something began to take over. I began to lose consciousness, but I felt no pain. My awareness of outside events shrunk down to the size of a seed, and something else, something new began to control my body. I had no control, but I didn't feel like I wanted to either. I just sat back in the corners of my mind, and watched something totally not me take over my body.

Outside, my eyes turned to a neon violet stare, the tens and tens of tranquilizers stopping in midair completely and beginning to get traced with purple again. My dark violet-purple hair began floating in the air, defying the laws of gravity, surprising the little conscious I had left. I, too, began to become traced with the purple energy, and the whole room began to glow. The cement paste used to stick the bricks together on the wall had the purple lining painted over them, the books and pillows and sheets of the dread room my keepers had given me began to float up, also traced with the ghostly energy.

What's going on? I asked myself, now a distant thought somewhere in my body. I saw at some point the three men at the door with horrified looks on their faces, my body being so powerful while still only in a beige straightjacket, my purple stare seeming deadly. I stood there with the meanest purple stare, my teeth gritted and my arms wanting to burst out of the tight hold.

Suddenly, everything fell apart. The flood of darts exploded like the first ones, glass shattering everywhere and water spilling through every direction. I felt the ground near me begin to rumble as well, seeing nothing but purple. And as if on cue, the wall exploded entirely, breaking the window I had constantly looked through in the past, the stone blocks cracking into bits and pieces, falling to the floor and creating a large cloud of dust.

The sight-blocking mist wrapped around me, and the purple energies wore off. I was returned to my body, my conscious and control expanding. I knew I had to get out before they did anymore harm to me. I had to survive no matter what. So I jumped out of the huge whole, flying down the building from three floors up, my arms still bound together like a cage that would stay with me forever.

I landed on my feet, my legs feeling heavy after setting on the ground. I was a few feet away from the white, ominous building, and was happy to look at a different color other than pale silver of the metal plates they fed me in, the dark violet of my hair and the pale whiteness that surrounded me for most of my life. I breathed in the fresh forest air, and felt calm. But my heart began racing right away after I had footsteps around me.

I saw no one in the distance, and backed up into a tree's trunk. I searched through the maze of branching trees, but could find no one.

"You lookin' for us, pretty lady?" someone's voice, a male, called out to her. Then I saw him. A security archer, coming from behind a tree. They were used to make sure no one got in or out of the white prison. "You ain't leavin' this place, y'hear?" he told me in his dialect, two other security archers coming from the backs of trees. They were all wearing green, and had wooden bows and arrows, looking sharp and dangerous to anyone who would cross them, their faces covered in some kind of robin's mask.

Without giving me a chance to explain or warning of any sort, they fired a set of arrows at me, one from each of them, cornering me in every direction. I shut my eyes, hoping that some of that purple energy would help me again, bowing my head down, hoping that the arrows would miss just in case. The weak, dry bark helped me to stand, the shade of branches and leaves providing a cool surrounding for me, the sunlight from the azure sky punching holes through the forest ceiling.

The purple returned and seemed to watch out for me. When I opened my eyes, I saw a wall of invisibility that was traced with purple bits creating a sort of shield around my place on the tree. This is my chance, I realized. I ran off closer to the building, being the only direction I could run off to and hopefully not cross an archer.

I looked back as I ran, my arms unable to move. They seemed to have disappeared, obviously chasing me. I backed up to the building wall now, the fresh air beginning to fill my clothes, my back feeling somewhat safe from the towering, white stone wall behind me. The wall was cold against my back, the sound of my heavy breathing filling my ears. I looked from left to right, back and forth until I found someone. Shifting figures came out of the rustling grass around me, and fired another arsenal of arrows.

"Just stop!" I yelled, angry and scared .I felt a sudden migraine come at me, my head feeling like it was about to implode. The intense headache filled my thoughts, making it hard to breathe or imagine. I looked up to the sky as I felt energy pour out of me rapidly, like a crazy gas leak. I screamed into the sky in despair as I felt the zooming arrows creep closer. I cried out horribly, crying to the clouds above for some help, the migraine taking over my thoughts and the energy bursting from me like a bomb which was finally about to explode.

I kept my eyes open, waiting for the pain like I had done with the tranquilizers, but something even more amazing happened than before. More of the purple traced invisible shields came out, which I soon came to name "force fields," surrounding me and growing constantly, spreading its diameter throughout the forest, pushing the trees, the arrows, the grass, and even the air away from me, my throat still screaming until my lungs burst, my cries so loud it sounded like a banshee. My body was enveloped in mystic purple, my hair flinging wildly in the air like candlelight's flames. My eyesight became embraced with a purple background, the white clouds I saw in the sky now indigo, the blue, azure sky becoming dark.

The force field pushed away everything, including the building walls behind me, the large half-sphere crashing into the building, breaking its foundation. I heard crashing of rubble and whistling of wind that would try to reach me, but would always fail. I didn't care what was going on at this point, since I could not distinguish anything with my aching head, my senses shut off.

Energy poured out at a constant rate, pushing everything everyway, the strong force even breaking the hold of the straightjacket on my arms, flinging my arms by my side and where they always should have been. I had no time to realize the new, free feeling in my arms. My migraine seemed to block everything. I continued to yell horribly, hoping that god would hear me somewhere, somehow and heed my cries. I knew that nothing was around me but total destruction and I also knew that there would be lives lost among the screaming dust and crashing building rubble as the forest and building bricks around me flattened to a barren field of dirt.

PoVS

As if denying our presence, the portal coughed us out like it was throwing us up. The large group landed in a crash, and we looked around our surroundings as dust clouds cleared to allow sight.

I saw a forest, and in the distance of the forest a large purple forceful wave, the kind that I've seen Minoa use when she gets overprotective with her force fields. "We have trouble," I told them, my locket beeping wildly. I didn't have to open it. I knew perfectly why it was beeping as I watched the wind blow towards us, the purple field causing its own version of deforestation.

"Good examination, Mr. Obvious," Tsukansu told me, joking around and patting me on the head. All of us watched the purple waves as a huge building behind it began to crumble down, and the forest trees were being wiped out. "We need a plan," Tsukansu said, turning obvious.

And that point on, I knew that everything would seems harder than it was before now. Things were going to get serious, I thought as I watched the dust clouds form and rise into the sky, a purple force field continuing to grow wider and wider, creeping closer to us, its zenith becoming more and more distant, beckoning us to join in on the fight.


	21. Chapter 21

The purple field continued to expand wildly, disintegrating the forest like the world's second big bang, only the opposite of what people believed the first bang to be.

"I'll get rid of it," Zachary, or Zack, referred to the growing force field, the wind Minor tapping his sky blue cap, his white energy rising and the wind swirling around him.

"No, don't," Tsukansu told Zack, all of the group listening in and watching the purple field creep closer, clouds of dusts surrounding it. "It's not like you can penetrate the force field anyway. Don't waste your energy," Tsukansu said, Zack's swirling wind stopping in its tracks, his clothes stopping to flutter.

"Fine," Zack said reluctantly, wishing he could have a chance to show off his wind powers all ready.

"How do we get rid of it then?" Rick asked, turning to Tsukansu, who didn't turn around to look back at him. The sun shone high in the air above, looking still as if it were not caring about their conversation or the destruction caused below.

"That's just it. You can't," Jeremy popped into the conversation, his stare still locked on the purple field that widened like a hurricane. He swept his brown metro hair to the right so he could see well.

"Well, we have to do something. It's coming closer," Rick stated, turning to Jeremy, and then Tsukansu, posing a worried look to both of them. His young, yellow eyes beckoned for an answer, the confused look never gone.

"I think there's one way to stop it," Tsukansu stated, his stare serious and thoughtful.

"What? How could you do something like –," Jeremy's sentence was cut off. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth opened in horror, he began to groan in a shocked way. He felt someone's palm against the back of his neck, causing him to lose consciousness. What…? he asked confusedly as he fell to the floor,his body heavy and limp. He lay on the dirt floor on his side, his eyes closed and hiding the widened, surprised look he had.

At the place of where his neck had been when Jeremy was standing could be seen Tsukansu's palm in a kind of knock-out manner, surprising everyone who had watched. Especially Rick. "'Wha-What did you do that for?!" Rick outburst, knowing that Tsukansu had just harmed Jeremy.

"It's our only way of surviving. We don't have much time," Tsukansu said, narrowing his eyes at Rick, giving him a serious stare.

"How's knocking out a ten year old kid going to help us survive?" Rick demanded as the echoing and sounds of the purple half-sphere crept closer, only minutes away from making contact with them.

Suddenly, the answer to his question began, for young Jeremy stood up on his feet, looking weak and his body seeming lazy, his back slouched and his head facing the floor. His arms were limp, his hands on the ground, slowly coming up as he tried hard to stand up.

"Jeremy!" Rick shouted, surprised. He went to Jeremy's side, and leaned down to his height. "Jeremy, what's wrong?" he asked. The ten year old didn't reply. In fact, he hadn't even opened his eyes. It was like he was sleep walking. "What have you done to him?" Rick interrogated Tsukansu, giving him a cold, protective stare, as if telling him he didn't know him anymore.

"He can't hear you. You might as well save your breath. Now shut up and stay back unless you want to die!" Tsukansu demanded angrily and tensely. Rick was surprised at Tsukansu's yelling and did as he said, putting a reluctant and confused face as he stood by the other Minors who were behind Tsukansu, who was also behind Jeremy.

Jeremy stood up, his back straight up and his eyes finally opening gracefully, revealing cold, charcoal-shaded black eyes. Tsukansu… Rick thought. Just what is he planning on doing?

Everyone continued to watch the ten year old nervously as he slowly opened his mouth subconsciously, the color and expression missing from his face. His mouth was open wide now, and everyone watched as if he were about to pull a rabbit from out of his throat or something.

And then, suddenly, there it came. The huge boom. It seemed like a clash of cymbals in front of Jeremy's mouth, a medium white sphere appearing out of nowhere.

"What the hell?" Mark, the Earth Minor asked, even more surprised as Rick..

The purple force field was only a few yards away now, coming towards them like a crazed animal. The white sphere in front of Jeremy's mouth seemed to spread another clash of energy through the air, dust and air coming towards the sphere in counterclockwise swirls. The air all around began to get sucked in everywhere, even from where Tsukansu and the rest of the group were.

The dust and air kept coming in, fluttering Tsukansu's robes and the Minors' teenage clothing. "Everyone stay back!" Tsukansu warned. The white ball soon grew and grew and the dust and air began to swirl into it like a cyclone, and eventually became a huge hole that seemed to lead to nowhere, breathing in sticks and pieces of wood and leaves into it like a black hole lost in space.

It continued to suck everything in, and everyone waited for the moment when the worldwide force field would collide with the continually growing black hole. The purple sphere crept closer, blowing more dust and tree pieces towards the black hole, as if helping it. Jeremy's clothes were fluttering wildly, more than anyone else's, and his eyes were wide open, the deep blackness hard to stare into and find anything, the stare bored as if watching the whole scene he created like a barely interesting movie.

Damn it, Walter thought in his mind, trying to keep himself from being sucked in, even though it should've been easier from behind the hole. This kid has a lot of power, he just doesn't realize it, but everyone else does. That's why this Tsukansu guy knows how to activate it. He even has more power than me, this kid. That's going to have to change later on, Walter thought, a little mad at the awareness that this little ten year old half his size had the power to kill him. Walter watched, examining everything that happened as the black hole continued to grow wider and wider, the vacuum stronger and stronger when it finally sucked in a whole tree.

The purple wave raged closer, threatening the huge hole, and the strong vacuum breathed everything in harder in reply. When they finally collided, they created a huge collision noise, sending a wave of dust in our direction, getting the tiny particles stuck in my eye.

The two forces remained stationary, fighting each other desperately, but in the end, the black hole broke a huge opening in the force field, cracking it at first, and then breathing in the whole thing, shard by shard. Then, it breathed it in all together, while the black hole disappeared along with it.

Jeremy fell back to the floor after the surroundings became safe again, his eyes returning to its shade of brown and his body lying on his back, his hair disheveled. Slowly, he began to open his eyes, blinking twice while his body stirred as if he had just awoken from a long sleep. He squinted his eyes to block the sun, and stared at the rest of the group with a baffled look. "What… What happened?" he asked, putting a hand over his squinted eyes, the rest of his face from the eyes down covered in his hand's shade.

"Nothing," Tsukansu replied immediately, not giving everyone else a chance to tell the truth. "It's not important. Now that everything is cleared, let's go!" he declared, also immediately changing the subject.

Jeremy stirred some more on the floor until he got back up on his feet, his mind feeling weak. I wonder what happened, and why I feel so weird, he thought, feeling a slight headache.

Tsukansu stomped his foot on the ground, blue energy pouring from him, as if calling attention in the most demanding way. "Traveling Land River!" he declared as a huge wave of water came from behind the group and carried them in the water as Tsukansu actually stood on it. Everyone had a hard time trying to ride it like Tsukansu did, even Walter, and they traversed through the barren, dirt reigning land.

There was not much to observe as they passed by in the rushing wave of water except splinters of wood sticking out from the dirt, pieces of bark from the trees, leaves and sand and grass blades scattered all over, bits of rocks laid out in the barren field. What happened here? Was this caused by the purple force field from before? I've never even seen Minoa cause this much damage, Jeremy thought as he felt the coolness of water rush him down the dusty path, his clothes soaking wet by now.

PoVS

I felt my headache slowly die down, my pain going away and fading into nothing but a forgotten memory. The defying of gravity of my hair failed out, my arms free of the straight jacket's hold, and my consciousness returning to its rightful place in my mind.

I looked around me to find nothing but dust and destruction all around me, remembering that it was a forest before. What happened? I thought. Did I cause this? I looked around me as much as I could, to try and find some clue of what happened. I turned around to see where the building I had been locked up in for so long had gone to.

I saw nothing but a pile of the stone bricks the tall building was made of, all of it disassembled like a Lego's puzzle. I took in a sharp breath at the sight of something horrible. My eyes froze in fear, my mouth open in horror. My expression tightened as I saw multiple human arms and other body parts sticking from pores In the scattered wasteland of white stone brick, blood coming from every leg, arm, and head I saw.

What…What happened? Did I do all this? Did I kill that many people just for the sake of getting out of here? What have I done? Just who am I? I'm not the same person anymore. I realized. I've caused another murder, I thought. That's what I've done.

I tried to look away as hard as I could, but my eyes were resistant to follow. I couldn't turn my back on it, no matter how hard I tried. Then, something made me turn around, something more engaging than the pile of graves _I _caused.

In my confusion, I turned around to see about six figures riding on what seemed to be water, five people slipping and one person standing coming towards me. I was immediately scared, thinking it was someone like the security archers from before and backed up. I couldn't go anywhere. The graves of the many innocent people I made and the bricks that surrounded everything were blocking my path. I had no way of escape. What was going to happen now?

They inched closer, and stopped right in front of me, the middle one looking familiar from the things I've learned back in school. "Tsu-Tsukansu?" my voice choked out in disbelief, surprised to see the Water Council here. Maybe I really am going delusional, I thought, my straightjacket sleeves worn out and tired.

"Looks like I'm famous around these parts," he said, smiling and tilting his head as what seemed to be his group stood behind him, finally letting my arms move.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him with innocent eyes, still not believing that I was actually meeting a council, wondering if he had come in person to kill me for the deaths everyone had claimed I caused.

Immediately, he introduced himself and began telling me the story of the Minors as smoothly as possible. About how they set off on a mission to come and save us because we had power White Cloak wanted, about they had ten of the twelve Minors all ready, and about me being number eleven on the list, soon to be crossed out. But I was totally baffled. Am I losing my mind or something?

"A Minor?" I asked, my voice full of disbelief. This world can't be real, I thought, thinking that there was no way I could be one of these "Minors". "How can I be so sure that I believe you?" I interrogated him for proof.

"You sometimes experience strange things. Strange things you cause that you can't explain, or have any way of explaining. So you decide to ignore it," he told me, telling me the exact same thought I have come up with many days ago.

"I… I don't know if I can," I lied, wondering about if their story was true or not. Everyone nodded in unison to Tsukansu's talking, the claimed to be "Minors" and Jeremy.

"Why would I lie to you? I'm Tsukansu," he told me, trying to make me realize that he was totally trustworthy just because he helped rid the world of its Ebony Age. Well, newsflash. Just because you helped the world doesn't mean I have to believe every single word you say. You're not the best or anything. You're just strong enough to stand up to the world's dark times. Being a Council means nothing either. I don't know the Councils as people. Why should I respect them? Just because they're older and that they are who they say they are? That just gives them a title, not respect. You have to earn respect. The hard way. On the other hand, it could be true about what he's saying…

"I don't know… it just seems too…" I began, unable to find the words in my confused mind.

"Abnormal? Well you control the abnormal. Get used to it. I'm not lying to you," Tsukansu said, finally receiving my trust.

"Fine," I told them, believing them for now, my voice still a little unsure. We'll just see how it turns out. Plus, I have nowhere to go now. "My name is Miroku Teresa," I said, introducing myself.

"Oh, I know you and all about your past," Tsukansu said, scaring me. "By the way, you're not crazy," he told me. "I know for a fact that you're not." He smiled. His smile was sure reassuring. It just made me feel so sure inside, so warm, but really, I knew that what he said meant nothing to me.

"But… if my purpose is really for good," I said, becoming sad and depressed, thinking of the lives I took away in seconds with my uncontrollable powers. "Why did I kill all those people just now?" I asked them, my eyes tearing.

Tsukansu sighed. Everyone watched our "private" conversation. "Your powers are just out of control. You have the mind element, which is hard to master. It can take over your own mind and body at certain times, but you have to become stronger than that power inside you. When you feel too stressed or pressured, your powers get out of hand and you can do who knows what to anyone," he explained, his eyes giving a look assistance. "You just have to have a lot of heart to do so," he said in a reassuring way. How does he do that? How does he seem to make me feel better just by looking at me?

But even so, if he's correct, that won't pay for the _real_ sins I've commit. I looked back to the graves, the bloody limbs and other body parts sticking out like protruding sticks of the dead trees in the dirt. I have to make it up to the world, to get everything in balance, I realized. I'll have to help these guys stop White Cloak! It's the only way to cancel out the load of bad things I've caused with enough good ones.

"Okay, I believe you guys. I'll join you," I told them, this time me reassuring them. And they all smiled welcomingly and made me part of their group with smiles.

The sun glared high in the sky, still ignoring us as we walked away to the center city of Kinotoro, where we would figure everything out, and then begin our search for the next and last Minor.


	22. Chapter 22

I'll do my best, we thought as I walked through the stone paved paths that spread through Kinotoro City like a web. My straightjacket sleeves were being dragged across the floor, my mind careless to take the whole thing off.

"So, where's the last Minor?" I asked my new friends as we walked the late afternoon road. The air was fresh and cool around us, our shoes clicked against the flat stone, the sun beginning to set while the sky was not yet orange.

"Well," Jeremy began. "Walter, Mark, Zack, and Rick have the ability to track the last one, since they're all Base Element Minors, but they don't know how to do it," he explained.

"The locket won't be able to help you," Tsukansu said, informing everyone of the current situation. We stopped walking and decided to rest on a green city bench. It was cool in shade, and everyone either stood up or sat down.

"Well, if this is the last one and the locket won't be able to pick up anything anymore, then I guess I should give it back to you guys, right?" Jeremy asked, taking the big, golden accessory off and taking it by its glowing yellow string, the circular shied glimmering in the sunlight.

"No, keep it," Tsukansu said, rejecting the locket. "It can do so much more than just track Minors."

Jeremy looked surprised. "I-I see," he told Tsukansu, his eyes in a sort of happy shock.

"Well, I'll be trusting you six to watch out for my Jeremy-san," Tsukansu told us as be put his right hand on top of Jeremy's head, disheveling his hair.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" Derek asked from his place next to me, his tough eyes a bit widened.

"I'll have to go back to the Inner World," Tsukansu told us, turning his back to the group. "I can't watch after you guys forever, and besides, you guys have to learn to last by yourselves, no matter what happens. Just remember to call us when you're done, Jeremy," he said, turning his head to the small child who nodded in agreement. Then, Tsukansu opened up another portal like before, and gracefully walked in, looking powerful, leaving us with the rest of the responsibility.

"So how are we going to do this?" Zack, the Wind Minor asked, his eyes saddened because he was confused.

"I guess we have to get you guys to learn how to sense each other. But how?" Jeremy's words came out in a hurry, stating the obvious.

Walter thought for a moment. He remembered Eric, that guy who breathed fire and knocked some sense into me that time. Yeah, I still remember it… Walter began to doze off into his memories.

_I was panting out of exhaustion, my body feeling hot, releasing water vapor into the cold air above. My feet stuck in the snow like ice cubes, and my cold hard stare locked onto Eric who was still standing tall, giving a mean look back._

_"That look," Eric said, being able to talk after finally beating me. "That stare you give off, it's not just for show."_

_I watched as he continued talking, his arms crossed in front of me, not scared of me at all. "Your pain. I sense it," he told me, knowing something as if he were psychic._

_"What are you talking about?" I panted out, still trying to catch my breath with the cold air and snowfall around us, dramatizing the scene._

_"You're almost the same as me. Except you have an eager thirst for power. Power you only want to use for revenge," he said again, as if a mind reader._

_"How do you know all this?" I interrogated him, becoming unsure of my whole life now. I stood up straight, my breath finally caught, and I stared into his eyes as he stared back on what seemed to be a belittling look._

_"I'll tell you one thing," he began, ignoring my question. "You'll get nowhere if you want revenge. Otherwise, you're just the same as the people who have hurt you," he said, beginning to walk past me. I turned around to find him walking away now, ending our fight. Neither of us had really won, but inside we both knew who the real winner was._

_He's leaving me alone here, I realized.I sighed as I took his words into consideration for only a moment in time, then I ran off to find Minoshi, my feet stomping against the snow, the crunching of my boots echoing through my mind, Eric and I crossing our different paths. As I ran, he knew what I was thinking. He knew that I began to realize what I was doing was wrong. But I didn't care. There were too many things that happened to me, and I'll never forgive the ones who caused them. But really… I thought as I stopped running for a minute and turned around to see the back of Eric walking away, his steps melting the snow as he walked through the steady flurries. Just who is he? I pondered the thought in my mind as he discontinued his words, disappearing in the decreasing snowfall._

Back to the present time, Walter thought deeply. This Eric person… I want to find him more than anyone else does, I realized. Maybe… just maybe I know how to find him, I thought, concentrating hard. I heard the rushing of water around me as I closed my eyes, focusing hard on what I wanted to do. Only a few seconds later did I hear everyone gasp.

"Walter, what are you doing?" Rick said, his eyes definitely in shock. I couldn't see the stare he gave off, but I knew that his stare was shocked. That's just the kind of person he is. Typical, I thought.

I opened my eyes to find a blob of water in front of me, floating in the air like a fairy. It bubbled and moved, and began to form a kind of compass- like arrow, the leftover water surrounding it in front of my place on the green bench.

"This…" I began to explain, everyone listening carefully without any demand by me. The aquatic arrow rotated on its own in the air, floating like it was defying gravity, its transparency shaking the sunlight that pierced through it like god's own arrow. "Is a tracking compass. The water I've ever used is partially stored into my body, and using that water, I can track the location of whomever it touched by creating an arrow made of that very same water."

Everyone stared in amazement as the compass arrow stopped rotating and pointed due west.

Wow, I thought. I can't be as smart as that with my Minor Powers yet, can I? Being an overachieving genius back in school wasn't enough. It'll take some getting used to. According to Tsukansu, my power can be equal to the five Base Elements combined. Maybe even greater. Having this much power… it's scary.

"You comin'?" Mark asked, staring at me along with the rest of the group at the road that lead west, following the water arrow that still floated around them like an accompanying sprite. They're quick, I thought. I've only been thinking for a second and there they are, ready to leave.

"Yeah, I'm coming," I said, keeping my thoughts to myself. I ran towards them and we began walking out of town. I don't know where we're headed, but I don't care. I have to pay off my debt right away. I owe it to the people I've killed, and the people others claimed I killed, back to three years ago. I can finally make a difference. People will actually begin to listen to me… unlike before.

We continued to walk in the suns direction in the sky, eventually passing it to lead our own path, the azure world above greeting us with friendly puffs of white. The hot sun warmed the back of my neck as we exited the city, my mind drifting off to my own memories at the mention of them in my thoughts.

I still remember myself crying, almost everyday in that little corner until I had become tired. I remember myself begging trying to make them believe that I was right, that I wasn't crazy. They wouldn't buy it. It actually made them think I was crazier. It all began when I thought I saw something I couldn't have. Everyone began to turn on me when I said that…

_I was thirteen when it all happened. I was walking through these very same steps I walk now in Kinotoro City. Actually more like running, pacing myself frantically. It was a day when my parents when berserk because I hadn't decided what to do with my life, and I was a star student who graduated three years ago. They made me feel so bad inside, so guilty over something I could've very much control._

_It was raining that day. Raining hard. But I didn't care. I ran through the city, my hair sopping wet and my clothes heavy with the smelling water. I headed for my boyfriend, Kyle's house. I had met him just recently and wasn't sure about the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing, but he always seemed to comfort me when I needed it._

_My feet splashed into another puddle of water, the clicking of my shoes completely drowned out by the pouring rain, the sounds of pitters and splatters surrounding me like a cloud of never ending chorus. The dark drops flew all around, the wind content medium, and the trees in the city swaying with the soft, cool breeze._

_There were no human sounds around me whatsoever, the clouds were malevolent and beckoning, the lightning crashing against the rain like a crooked spear, lighting up the whole city. The grim, dark day was cold-hearted and merciless. It had no pity for whoever dared to go outside, faced to force its wrath of never ending rain and moments of crashing light. _

_Suddenly, as I ran, I felt a presence behind me. Some kind of person that was following me, almost. I kept ignoring it until I could no longer, being forced to turn around and find nothing there. My wet hair blocked my eyesight, allowing only a half-blind person's worth of sight._

_I decided it was a figment of my imagination, and kept running. The presence came back again, but when I turned around nothing was ever there. About the third time it had happened, when I turned back around to run again, I came across someone. Someone, or something standing in my way with an evil, crooked smile._

_The person looked completely dry standing in the rain, its face painted white, looking like a Mardi Gras mask. The person wore a kind of old Asian hat and robes, looking like something from a Chinese New Year ad. Its evil eyes crept into my skin, crawling through my blood and freezing my heart over._

_I gulped down a large knot of nervousness. "Can I help you?" I asked, staring up to the person in nothing but pure fright. _

_"Ah, so you can see me?" it rasped out in a scratchy, demonic voice. The monster's robe sleeves seemed to sway lightly with the wind. The smile it wore never seemed to go away, scaring me even more than I all ready was. "You must be one of those damned Mirokus…" _

_I stared at in horror, backing up with small steps, completely scared with no one else outside to see or help me. How did this… this thing know my last name? "What are you?" I asked it, my voice cracking up._

_The thing seemed to laugh at me. "Your worst nightmare," it cracked up. "Meet you at your poor boyfriend's house… boy I wish I wasn't him right now," it cackled. Then, it disappeared form sight, jumping into the pouring rain and darkness. _

_My poor boyfriend? Did it mean Kyle? What was it going to do to Kyle? Tension raced through my blood stream as I continued my pace to Kyle's house, running even harder, this time with worry and sadness. I drowned out the sound of pouring rain from my mind, my heavy steps against the cold stone pavement becoming louder and louder, echoing through my mind like a dead, monotonous pattern._

_Kyle, please wait! Please be okay and don't let that thing touch you! I ran, turned the corner, not finding the thing from before in my path anywhere, which gave me a thought that it actually told me it was going after Kyle just so it would scare me. But how did it know so much about me? It made no sense._

_When I finally reached the house, the rain seemed to pour even louder, the clouds seemed darker and deeper, the lightning above crashed in my head like a repetitive cymbal. _

_I opened the door quickly, which was strangely unlocked. I walked into the living room, and right into the kitchen, where I found the scene that laid right in front of my eye that would soon change my whole life all together, shifting the road I had taken like some kind of train track operator._

_There, in the bright kitchen lights, my shoes soaking the carpet floor lay Kyle, his tall, thin body on the floor helpless on his back, his eyes staring into space and his mouth in a wide O of horror. A pool of blood grew continuously from his back, soaking the kitchen floor red with his parents in the corner of the room, making their own pool of blood, their necks slit._

_"Oh…" I choked out. I fought off wave of nauseas after wave of nauseas. My stomach churned and hurled, looking at my boyfriend's eyes, the friendly, blue eyes now seeming to stare at me, accusing me that it was all my fault._

_I was about to throw up when I found the thing in the kitchen as well, smiling a smirk much too large to be human. "What's that look on your face?" it asked me. "You're not sad are you? Oh boo- hoo, cry me a river," it said, reading my angry thoughts._

_"Sh…Shut up!" I shouted, feeling my mind slip away from consciousness. I was about to throw up, but I somehow managed to hold it in my throat until it settled down._

_"Hah," it scoffed in its demonic, echoing voice. "Have you figured it out yet…. That I'm a spirit?" _

_"A what?" I asked in disbelief, wondering what the hell this… this murderous thing was talking about._

_"Boy, are you quite slow… Yes. The truth is, I'm a spirit. A deadly one at that," it old me, the wide grin becoming even bigger, the claimed to be ghost standing in front of the kitchen window which blared brightly with light that poured from the thunder above._

_The sound of crashing lightning filled the whole kitchen and my ears, brightening the scene with ominous light. "It's not over," it told me. "My reign of terror is not over, Miroku clan," it said as it disappeared into empty space, leaving me with three dead bodies._

_I got tired of holding it in, and threw up on the kitchen floor, the hot, sticky liquid mixing with the blood of my boyfriend's family._

_I decided to take it to the police. I cleaned myself up, and ran out of the house, heading for the police station. When I got there, we had a big fight. They told me that it was perfectly clear that there was no such thing as a "spirit," and that they were beginning to think I was crazy. I told them the truth, and argued back the best I could. Instead, they chose to get their stupid security and put me in a mental house. My parents were utterly surprised, and grew to not care for me anymore._

_I was on temporary hold, since they believed I wasn't that crazy to stay for life, but I knew that the ghost was right. Its reign wasn't over. And then, a year and a half later, its promise came true._


	23. Chapter 23

I've spent three years in that hell hole, three years of not being able to do anything, not being able to help anyone. But now I can do something. Now I can help people, Teresa thought in confidence, ready to pay back her debt for the deaths she's caused.

They were far outside of town now, and were on a dirt road that lead into the next city. The group followed the water arrow that seemed to sway every now and then. It glittered in the sunlight that began to fade, seeming to drench it with glittering beams of insolation. Teresa followed the arrow, keeping her eye on it as Walter walked directly behind it with his eyes showing no care except a sense of cruelty, his arms crossed in front of him. His dark blue jacket made his figure look large, even if he wasn't that tall.

They walked past a few trees, the shade of the ebony figures that stood up to the sun cooled us for short and uplifting moments. They soon walked into a grassless forest, paying no attention to the lush, prickly plant life around them, their whole bodies taken over by shadows of trees with sunlight punching holes through them.

Behind them, only a few feet away stood a man behind a tree, watching and waiting for the group he had just begun keeping an eye on to make more distance between them and him so he could move closer, creeping towards them like a kind of stalker. His face completely covered in shadow, his arms crossed in front of him, he listened to the footsteps of the group pacing on the dirt ground, waiting for the sound to fade away in the climbing trees that so desperately tried to grasp the clouds. He was following them, and for a good reason too. What was the reason? Because it was his job.

PoVS

I had spent a few days in the Inner World with the rest of the Council, meeting a few of them all ready. That's when I probably began to realize that everything we were going through was serious. Dead serious. We could lose our lives, or we could help save the world. It all depends on how we do, and even though it's a lot of pressure, I had to suck it up.

My forehead itched under the orange headband I wore, a layman's picture of a sun on it. I sat at the weak, wooden table, the large room dimly lit by an electrically buzzing light. I gripped the bamboo style teacup in my hand tightly, feeling it's outside warm the palm of my hand, feeling nervous and wondering how Jeremy and the others were doing. I heard they only needed on more left, I thought.

I looked up for something interesting, to keep my mind off the dead silence given from the room. I found two of the three new Minors who had just come in yesterday, getting used to Inner World life all ready.

One of them had blue hair, the other one red. The blue haired one's shade of color was obviously from dye, looking periwinkle, his hair wild and going straight up like a roaring fire. A large strand stuck out from the right side, hanging a little in front of his right ear. He looked fairly nice, his sky blue eyes round and forgiving, his body structure average and his height, average. He wore this white polo shirt with the collar unfolded, a light blue T-shirt showing its short sleeves from underneath the polo's short sleeves.

Next to him was the red headed one, wore rectangular glasses, his eyes rectangular, looking like they could give a mean stare, but they didn't. They looked worried, the corners of them elevated, like he was about to cry. His red hair looked like Rick's but much shorter, so short you could actually see his eyes. He was shorter than the other one, and had one thin strand of hair hanging on his forehead. For a shirt, he wore a light green short sleeve shirt, a white T-Shirt underneath, both of them excessively long, looking like they could fit someone ten years older than him.

They sat next to each other, the blue haired one having a cup of tea, the other one looking all worried and panicky. Looking at him even made me a bit anxious as well. I decreased the pressure of my hold on the teacup, the hot steam from it streaming into the dimly lit air, the red-brown liquid reflecting light from above.

I wonder how everyone else is doing, I thought. Marissa was being trained by the Sound Council, being the one with the least experience so far. I'm with these two, and the other one is somewhere hanging out. Jeremy and every other Minor with him are looking for the last one. Look's like things are really just about finished, huh?

"So, what're your names?" I asked them, turning away from my thoughts and looking up with my friendly smile, grabbing their attention first thing. The red haired one looked up and found me, then looked back down and sunk in his seat in shyness. The blue haired one, unlike his friend over there looked up and greeted me with the same friendly eyes I gave him. He cleared his throat and began to fulfill my request.

"My name is Takiato Kenneth. Pleased to meet you," he said, smiling.

"Pleased to meet you too," I replied in a friendly way, crossing my arms in front of me like the red haired one did. "My name is Kokori Dylan," I told them, knowing that both of them were paying attention. At that moment, I realized just how close my last name was to the Botany Council. Kokori–Kakori, its weird isn't it?

Kenneth cleared his throat again. "This is Takiato Daniel," he introduced, making me notice that they both had the same last name.

"You both are Minors?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yeah, that would be right. I'm the Ice one, he's the Life one," he said, looking to his companion. Daniel seemed to sink in his seat even more, if possible. At the mention of him, he seemed to become even shyer, and nervous sweat drops rained down crazily down his forehead. "So, are you one too?" he asked me, turning back to me, Daniel calming down a bit.

"Yeah, I'm the Botany one," I told them, keeping my eye on Daniel. Why is he being so nervous? "So, are you two brothers? I noticed you guys have the same last name," I told them.

"Yeah, we're brothers. Hard to believe right?" he said, giving a slight chuckle and putting his hand behind his head, nervously scratching his hair.

I sat on my side of the table, staring at theirs a few feet away, Kenneth and my eye's locking into each other in wonder, both of us thinking thoughts about who the other person was. Their table was a few feet away in the dark room, the walls painted a dead plaster orange. I looked away from Kenneth's face and stared at his teacup. It seemed to be frozen over, solid. Looks like he's been practicing, I realized.

Then I looked to Daniel. He seemed so nervous and tense, his teacup still full in front of him, the hot steam beginning to die out and become cold. "So, tell me a little about you guys. What're your hobbies?" I said, trying to break the silence. All three of us knew that it had been quiet for too long.

Kenneth began talking about all these things like how he liked baseball and how he's surprised about being a Minor while I sort of ignored his words, his teenage voice going in one of my ears, and coming out the other. I was really paying attention to the anxious old Daniel. Why was he so… antisocial? He's nothing like his brother.

When I sensed that Kenneth had stopped talking, I turned back to him, pretending I had heard every word. "That's great, me too," I told him, not knowing what I was agreeing to. I wonder if he's having trouble adjusting, I wondered, returning back to the topic of thought.

"I mean, I still can't believe that I'm involved in this whole thing, you know?" Kenneth's voice rang into my head.

I didn't take my eyes off of the strange Daniel, giving my late, blank reply to Kenneth's words, saying, "Yeah, it's amazing, isn't it?"

PoVS

I sat in the large dark room in the Inner World, getting my thoughts out through creativity. I sat on a wooden stool, totally surrounded by darkness and a few dim lights, the room looking all dark and ghostly, like it was something from a horror movie. The cracked corners of the room and dim electric lights didn't bother me as I sat there, holding my palette in one hand, and a paintbrush in another. A large stand was laid in front of me, holding a huge piece of paper for me to paint on, my eye detecting every detail to be made, every single thing to be painted. A line of sweat came down my forehead as I wiped it away, taking a short breath before I resumed painting with my right hand.

As I added detail after detail to my soon-to-be-finished masterpiece, I began thinking. It's so surprising that I turned out to be a Minor, and sometimes I really think that they're tricking me or something. I mean, why I, out of all the people in the Outer World, would be chosen to get these powers? It makes no sense. Plus, why would Metal have chosen me? I'm a guy, and the Metal Council is a girl. On the other hand, though, the Metal Council sure acts like a tomboy sometimes, I thought as I put my fat paintbrush into the splotch of red on my palette, rotating it in the blue liquid, and then continuing to add the detail on the blue, raging fire portray in the picture, releasing hints of my emotion with every stroke I made with the brush, delicately fingering the edges of the fire with my hand.

I took my hand away from the picture for a while, and just looked at it, thinking about what to add next, pausing for a thought that came to my mind. They said that when they get the last Minor, they would return and start preparing us. Prepare us for what? And an even better question would be, how?

I picked at the splash of black paint one more time, and then traced the dark rocks that rained from the sky, the racing meteors with their energetic, orange streak. I let out a deep breath. I wiped my forehead to get the sweat out, my body feeling hot all over as I continued thinking. I wonder how the others are doing, I thought as I resumed my tracing of black paint.

PoVS

The room was completely darkened and no lights were on, but despite that fact, everyone could see each other, the outlines of their figures silhouetted against the great shadows that ate at the room.

"So, how is he?" a voice asked in the darkness, only his eyes could be seen glowing, piercing through the darkness of the Inner World.

"His power's increased tenfold over the last three years. It's just as we expected," Tsukansu's voice popped in, his stare serious and dark.

"So could he really be…?" another, different voice form before asked, his voice piercing the darkened walls like sunlight did to a shadow.

"I don't know. Maybe. We can't be so sure yet. We can only hope that he regains back what he's lost, and if the group becomes suspicious, which I all ready think they do, we're going to find ourselves lost in quite a mess," a familiar voice rang. The speaker couldn't see anyone else through the darkened, Council room, but he could sense the feeling of agreement given off from every direction, every wall and corner of the room.

PoVS

In a place different from the Inner World, underground were two people that were unable to see each other thanks to the underground darkness. They peered to each other the best they could, but could not find each other. The sigh of infinite darkness was seen and the sound of water dripping pinged off the dirty, disgusting walls.

"What are you going to do now?" the first voice asked. "You don't even seem to try, letting Walter-kun go like that," the voice came out belittling with a hint of confusion.

"There are more sources of power than Walter and the rest of them, you know. Let the Council gather all the Minors. The problem with my last attempt for the power they so selfishly hold was the absence of a backup plan in case everything went wrong. That won't happen this time," the second voice called out, a deeper, raspier and scratchy voice than the first.

"But… how? I thought you said that your power was not strong enough to even take one Council down. Won't they try to protect the Minors?" the first asked, this time in a much deeper voice, as if trying to match the second's.

"Yes, but as I said before, there are much more ways of getting power, you know." Among the darkness could be seen, if you could see, the evil smirk of a devious plan coming into place, a malevolent chuckle coming right after.

"Just as I expected. You're going after _them_ after all, aren't you?" the first voice asked, much, much deeper than before, and less confused as well, the speaker thinking that he had everything figured out.

The second voice did not reply, but instead just gave a long, deviant chuckle, the booming voice echoing off the walls of the large place, the sound of dripping water being the only thing that could be heard.

PoVS

"We're almost there," Walter told the rest of the group, his stare kept on the marine arrow that swayed with the wind a little, but still maintaining its direction so everyone else still knew where to go.

"Mm," Jeremy grunted in reply, his eyes one of confidence. His right hand lay on the big cure bag that Shihou had given him long ago back in Hanayuki, never used yet.

Teresa walked with big steps, yet small enough so she would stay behind everyone else. She looked to her sleeves, having nothing to really think about anymore, when she noticed something. Her sleeves were soaking wet and heavy, the outside of them painted red. The long straightjacket sleeves seemed to be bloody, and the sight shocked Teresa even more.

She stopped her pace for a second and cried out in surprise. She rolled up her sleeves as everyone watched, grumbling in shock just as Teresa did. Underneath the long, trapping sleeves were her arms, thin and slender, all bloodied and red, blood leaking from almost every part of the body. Teresa stared with horrified eyes. "What-What's going on?" she said, her voice cracking up in fear.

Her fingers were soaked with the red liquid, and she felt like she was about to scream because of the sudden deathly sight.

"Hey! What happened?" Rick asked, everyone else watching. Walter stopped walking, sensing trouble. He turned around to find the sight, his eyes becoming shocked just a little bit, only returning to their normal state a second later.

"I-I don't know. I just noticed my sleeves soaking wet and rolled them up to see the problem. Then I found…. I found this," Teresa told them, still in shock and confusion as to what happened. So was everyone else.

"I guess it really doesn't matter now how it happened. We need to heal that wound," Jeremy said, walking up to her and taking her forearm, not scared of touching the blood at all.

"How? We don't have a doctor," Teresa told him, confused as to what he was doing looking at her arms like that, the fear and horror seeming to have been washed away from his face, completely dried out.

"We may not have a doctor, but we have something just as good," he said, taking off the Cure Bag and searching through it thoroughly. Clinking and clattering of potion bottles and supplies were heard as he rummaged the bag completely, looking for something that would help me.

I kneeled on my knees and laid out my arms in front of him as he took out a spherical, potion bottle with green liquid in it, filling about half of it up and a roll of bandages to tie around my arms.

He traced the bandages with the green liquid that had been labeled "Blood-Healing Ointment" with directions scribbled on the path of paper that seemed to be glued on the container.

Then, he wrapped the bandages around my forearms and parts of my upper arm, the pressure of the fabric and the chemicals of the green liquid stinging my arms like a million bees that were chasing after me.

As he continued to constrict my arms in the beige colored bandages, I looked at the bloodiness of my arms. What happened here? I thought. What could've caused it? I remembered back in the forest when I caused a huge outburst. I remembered when the straightjacket's hold finally broke off due to the great amount of energy being released from my seemed to be possessed body. The release was so high, and even after my arms broke free, my body still constantly created purple energy, pushing it outwards from my body. Now that I come to think of it, I did feel pain and stinging in my arms while it was going on, too. What a scary thought.

Just how strong are my powers, really? I thought as I found it hard to bend my arms anymore, but it was all right. I got used to it. After, I thanked Jeremy and he smiled, the whole group surprised that he stood up to the situation so quickly.

Being just returned from my flashback, I smiled at Jeremy in a thankful way, and began walking again, the small child by my side. He strapped on the Cure Bag again across his chest, the insides of it clinking as he got up and continued walking. Everyone's stare on me seemed to wear off after a while, and I knew that I was probably the only one who knew why my arms became so bloodied. But surprisingly, ten year old Jeremy gave a knowing look, too, as if he knew _exactly_ what happened.

This kid… I thought. Just who is he?

PoVS

I stood at the city entrance gates, looking out to the sunset portrayed on the orange sky. They should be coming soon, I thought. Where are they? What's taking them so long? I asked myself repeatedly in my black hoodie jacket.

My mind began to wander away from the people whom I was expecting and to one person in that group specifically. I wonder… if that guy is with them. The guy from before. I wonder if he had finally come to his senses.

Please hurry, I told the group in my thoughts; hoping somehow they would hear me. I need new people in my life. New people I could care for. And that group would be the first of many.


	24. Chapter 24

The whole team was still walking, everyone behind Walter in a grouped position as the brown headed teenager watched the marine compass as it pointed straight ahead. It had been like that for a while now, Walter thought. He looked up to see if he could find anything, and to his shock, he did.

Dead ahead was the town entrance, the metal gates surrounding the wide, dirt paved neighborhood. Silhouetted behind the gates could be seen a figure. A tall figure at that, and it was completely recognizable. The figure of Kahibi Eric.

This guy… Walter thought. "There he is!" Walter shouted to the group, startled by the sudden voice that they rarely heard. Walter took off, beginning to run past everyone and everything in his way so he could reach Eric faster. He left the aquatic compass behind, the mythical item falling to the floor and creating a puddle of nothing as a result. Startled, everyone looked up with widened and curious eyes as they found the figure Walter was heading so fast for, and followed the lead, running as fast as they could only a few feet behind him.

"It took you long enough," Walter heard Eric's voice echo throughout his mind once more when Walter had finally come inside the town panting and breathing hard and wondering why he ran so fast.

"You…" Walter rasped out, his voice interrupted by short and necessary breaths. Among the two people were five others following as the sun shone brightly in the sky, late in its setting.

"I see your stare hasn't changed," Eric said, his arms crossed in front of the blue-eyed boy, both of their stares similar but put on for different reasons.

Walter took a few more short breaths, and said nothing. He looked back at the red bandanna boy, as if saying "I don't care"

"This is the Minor?" Jeremy's voice suddenly came behind Walter. Walter looked back to find the whole group behind him with wondering eyes, staring in curiosity.

Walter cleared his throat. "Yeah," he choked out, not looking at the ten year old as he gave the reply. Everyone seemed to have their eyes on Eric now, their eyes still in awe.

"You know how long I've been waiting?" Eric asked in a friendly voice, giving up his mean stare for a short while.

"You know all about it all ready?" Jeremy asked, surprised that the Minor was actually waiting for the group to come and get him.

"Yeah, I know," Eric replied. I saw the whole thing… Eric thought. I still remember it, back in Hanayuki town.

I had followed Walter to see where he had gone off to, him not noticing my presence at all. I watched in the cold, drifting snow as I saw that blonde girl explain everything with a piercing scream that rang in my ears. I was just as surprised as Walter was with his crazed, trancelike look. But I knew that something was going on all along. I was glad that everything had become clear now.

"So?" Jeremy broke into Eric's memory. Eric looked down to find the small ten year old child looking at him with his childish, innocent eyes. "What's your decision? Are you going to come with us?"

Eric didn't need to think hard for that. "Of course I am. Nice to meet you, I'm Kahibi Eric," he said in a friendly voice, his arms still crossed in front of him. Jeremy flashed a smile back, and everyone introduced themselves, glad to have finally found the last Minor.

"Well, isn't that nice?" a new voice came into the scene. Everyone looked in the direction from which it came from, looking with the same wondering eyes again. Everyone's stare met another person's, a male. He seemed to be a teenager as well, and he was well built. He wore an evil smirk that intimidated everyone except Walter and Eric, who put a threatening face, a protective one as if to say "who the hell are you?" But there was no doubt that that's what they were actually thinking in their own, private thoughts.

"Who are you?" Walter said in a blank voice, walking past Eric and closer to the new person, putting on his meanest stare, remaining only a few yards away from him as he stood in the sunset world, the sun's light wrapped and framed around him like an angel's light of hope. The orange light spilled on everyone's face but darkened the stranger's.

"Me? No one, really. Just here to do my job," he answered, coming closer.

"And your job would be?" Eric said from behind Walter, half of his figure covered and the other half revealed to the sunlight. Everyone watched the three speak, feeling the tension rise and mystery becoming closer and closer to being solved.

"You work for White Cloak don't you?" Derek asked, the first words he's said in a long time. Now four people were seen with narrowed stares, three protective and one deviant.

"I see you've caught on," the stranger answered. "I'm Breaker, nice to meet you," he said in a crooked smile, sounding snobby with his overpowering voice. "But there's no time for introductions is there?" he continued, not giving a chance for everyone else to speak. "So let's just get started."

"What do you-," Derek was about to ask until suddenly, Breaker's presence disappeared, easy to tell that he had declared and begun a fight without notice.

"Die!" Breaker appeared again, this time in front of Rick's unsuspecting eyes, ready to launch a roundhouse kick at him.

"Duck!" Eric shouted, warning Rick as the blonde boy took the advice at the last minute and leaned down, dodging the attack that would've made a hard impact at his head.

This guy's speed… he got over here so fast… Can we keep up with him? Rick thought, looking up to the new enemy in front of him. How will I defend myself in a weakness of power? "You're not the only one who can use a kick like that," Mark's voice came, his presence next to Breaker. Mark sent a similar kick to Breaker's stomach, making a direct and unsuspected hit, knocking the air out of him as the attack sent him flying across the area about ten feet. "You all right?" Mark asked Rick, now standing next to him and him only, the rest of the group behind, slowly escaping to the front of the entrance to save themselves from danger.

Blood seemed to cause a red strip down the corner of Breaker's lips. He stood up carefully and wiped it off, putting his devious and confident smirk back on. "Let me handle this guy," Eric insisted out of nowhere.

"What? What do you mean? Can you even control your powers yet?" Jeremy patrolled, not wanting the last Minor to get hurt. His voice was high pitched and screeched out due to the sudden decision to talk. The orange light began to cause glare on everyone's eyes as the tension still grew from before.

"Good enough. Just go," Eric told them, stepping closer to Breaker, turning his back on the rest of the group. "It'll be my first time I try to protect everyone here."

Jeremy gulped a nervous knot down his throat, swallowing hard with difficulty. "It's okay," Walter told the group, his back also turned to everyone else except Eric. Then he turned his head around to look at them with on eye, and said, "He'll do fine."

Everyone began to walk back to the entrance nervously, taking small glances and peeks at Eric and Breaker, both of them standing in position, ready to fight at any moment. The team traveled back to the dirt road that was half consumed by forest, and hid behind a flock of trees.

Jeremy sat behind a tree, his heart beginning to beat louder and louder with nervousness as he clasped the golden locket Tsukansu had told him to keep for now. "It can do so many more things you haven't even discovered yet," Tsukansu had told him. Jeremy opened the gold brazen locket and stared at the screen. He desperately tried to contact the Council in case they needed help but it didn't seem to work. All it gave was a static screen that buzzed loudly in Jeremy's face, giving off an annoying and disturbing sound that couldn't be ignored.

Back at the sunset scene, two strong and determined boys were about to head off and do some real damage to each other. "Come," Eric provoked, shifting his weight.

"Gladly, loser," Breaker mocked. Breaker leaned forward and began running with speed that could actually be seen. Only a few seconds were needed until you saw him send a punch at Eric. Eric blocked by crossing his forearms, the punch sending a lot of pressure through his body.

Eric heard something crack in front of him, and he was sure that it wasn't Breaker's punch. Crap, he thought. My forearm… it's getting weaker. I have to get this guy away from me before he breaks my whole arm all together.

Outside his thoughts, Eric breathed in a great deal of dusty air, the dirt from the ground being inhaled into his body as a deep breath. Eric's chest rose and his body leaned back in reply, and then released his crossed arms back to his side and breathed out an enormous cloud of fire. The dark red flames came out in raging puffs, creating a kind of heat that hung in the air like a weak cloud in the sky with the lowest dew point imaginable. The raging red brightened Eric's face as he stood there, the front of his forearm feeling cracked and weak, not as user-friendly anymore. The light of the flames spilled everywhere, even back to the forest where everyone except Jeremy was watching with the background noise of static.

Slowly, the cloud began to clear. The reds and puffs dispersed and nothing was left but hot steam released to the sky above. "Fire, huh?" Breaker's voice came from another direction this time.

Eric, only the least bit surprised that Breaker had escaped his attack when he had been in such close range turned around to find Breaker on the roof. "This should be entertaining," Breaker said, looking cool with one side of his face brightly lit in the sun's last lights that screamed for another chance.

Eric flashed a belittling look that was mixed with protection, ready for another attack, moving around his wrist and arm to get used to using a weaker version of the original one. He turned around to lock stares with the boy who called himself "Breaker" who was on the rooftop of a house to the right.

Back in the forest, while all the other Minors stood beside trees and watched the two fight for only a short moment only to look at each other afterwards, Jeremy tried desperately to fix the locket, or at least get it to stop giving off that static buzz. It began to annoy everyone in the whole forest, even if some of them didn't notice it.

"What's wrong?" Zack said, turning away from the fight as if it were on intermission, actually asking about the disruptive noise.

"I can't get it to stop, or work," Jeremy said, telling him his problems. Both of them looked at the golden piece of greatness that seemed to be completely broken now, its value crushed and disheveled. Then, they both looked up from it and locked their own stares, just like Eric and Breaker were doing.

PoVS

Breaker jumped off the roof with silent but powerful steps, landed on the ground a few yards away from Eric and began running towards him, having to shift his weight.

Eric, seeing a chance that was laid right in front of his eyes breathed in more air, making his chest and cheeks full of the surrounding, not fresh air. Then he breathed it out when Breaker was still yards away, sending a stream that evolved into a huge ball of fire on the ground at his direction. Dust clouds were formed from the impact of the dirt ground, and any sign of Breaker was lost.

The bright flames shone again, trying desperately to beat the sun's light even when it was at its weakest point, but still far from succeeding. The bright yellow and oranges with hints of red lit the smoke clouds with bright light that soared slowly to the air above, floating heavenly like a dark, suffocating message to God.

Suddenly and quickly, Breaker emerged from the geysers of black smoke again, attempting to make a punch to Eric's left. Eric dodged to the right, Breaker missing his attack, but he wouldn't give up. After his failed attempt to attack, he used his right hand now to try and hit Eric hard to the right.

Eric watched as the fist was about to make impact with him. The attack… he thought. I can't escape it. I'm going to get crushed, he realized. I'm going to have to get out of here. Eric jumped forcefully into the air, jumping high into the sky and landing back down many feet away from Breaker where the black smoke still emerged behind him, creating an ominous background with streaks of dust and ash still clung to his clothes, going into the sky along with the wind.

As Breaker's hard punch impacted on the ground, clattering of stones was heard and rocks flew in the air, old pieces of the dirt surface. Eric stared in amazement and awe, looking at the damage that one punch did. I'm lucky that I got away with a cracked forearm, he noted, looking at his right arm, moving it around while it hurt, the tanned skin and almost too well built sized limb feeling weaker than ever.

This guy seems to be a fighter, Eric thought in his mind, watching Breaker closely as he drew back his fist. He's most likely a close range combat kind of person, but it doesn't matter. As long as I can keep my distance from him, I'll be fine. Eric turned so his left side would face his opponent. It'd be too hard to try and face him with my right side, Eric realized.

"I know what you're thinking," Breaker said, standing up straight. "It's no use trying to avoid me at this point!" he yelled with an angry and distorted expression on his face as he slammed his fist into the ground, the whole ground in front of him beginning to break into bits and pieces of rock, like some kind of earthquake created by one punch.

The ground beneath Eric soon became unsteady and this time, he was the one being totally surrounded in dust and darkness. Seconds later Eric found himself caught in a fist frenzy, dodging every single attack the best he could, and then, finally deciding that enough was enough, jumped from the cloud and to a nearby house's trash can. He jumped off the garbage can, sprung off the edge of a roof and jumped off again the top of the first house's roof.

In midair now, being able to see everything, he breathed in dusty air and for the third time breathed out another wide-range attack. The sizzling flames roared loudly and made a hole in the ground that cleared the black smoke with white smoke instead. The bright reds, oranges, and yellows painted Eric's face as he spit it all out like a flamethrower. The smell of burning dirt and smoke filled Eric's nostrils as he landed back into the smoked battle area below.

Suddenly, there was another clatter and a huge explosion. One of great magnitude that it could not be measured. The hit against the ground was so big, it even blew all the dust and smoke away from the area, and enabled sight to be used again.

In the distance, Eric saw more clattering rocks emerge from the floor, bigger in size than last time and dust emerging, covering the fire that he breathed out. The new dust soon began to cover the whole fire, and soon, they both died out together, revealing the least bit tired Breaker standing in the cragged land.

Eric stood there, locking glares again with Breaker as steam smoked from the edges of his lips and poured into the orange sky above. I'm running out of energy, Eric thought. I can't fire breathe for too long… but it's my only choice. I can't go close combat with him. It'd be too stupid to do that. He's obviously got some kind of super-strength to help him out. Another hit from that, and I'm dead.

Breaker flashed another crooked smile and his presence disappeared again, zooming towards Eric's. The speed caught him by surprise, and this time, there was no one out there who could yell duck to him. But there was someone who could save him.

"Die!" Breaker yelled and appeared right by Eric's right side, which by this time was the weakest. Breaker got into position for a roundhouse kick to Eric's right arm, and was seconds away from impact when all of a sudden, something got in his way.

As more clatter was heard, Eric slowly turned to his right with widened eyes and a hanging mouth of surprise. He found in Breaker's kick's way a pillar, a tower almost, of rock. It came directly from the ground like a protruding horn and blocked the kick, the human-size pillar breaking into bits and pieces in sacrifice.

What? Eric thought, still staring wide-eyed, Breaker doing the same.

Caught in midair, the rocks and dust of the dirt ground tower began to stay in place, as if frozen in time, Eric and Breaker feeling the air compress between them. What's going on? Eric asked as the air pressure grew stronger around them.

With a sign of release, the compressed air between Eric and Breaker exploded, blowing Breaker far away from Eric, as if some kind of wind shield. "Wha…what?" Eric choked out.

"Is this some kind of damned trick?" Breaker demanded as he was knocked back almost twenty feet away from Eric by the restless raging wind.

"You think we would just stand here and do nothing?" Mark's voice appeared from behind Eric. Eric looked back to find Mark standing there, looking savior-like and proud.

"Yeah, I get the fact that you want to help us out but," Zack's sound appeared from another direction, to the right of Eric, and Eric looked towards Zack, who also had a proud look on his face.

"It's all for all, not one for all," Rick's final and concluding voice said, appearing from the city entrance.

Still confused, Eric watched Rick pull closer in Breaker's direction, holding some kind of blue, glowing sphere. The electric blue and neon light given by the ball of energy he was holding seemed compressed, the brightness glowing all over Rick's clothes and hair and shining in his eyes like the hope he had. He's not going to… is he? Eric thought wide eyed.

Rick cried out as thrust the sphere forward, streaks and lines of thin and blue lightning blasted in Breaker's direction, who was watching with an even more wide-eyed stare than that of Eric's.

The crawling lightning in the air blasted slowly, but at this point, Breaker was trapped by twisting wind and as the chirping and flashing lightning made impact on Breaker, he found himself trapped in a electric shock field, his body stationary in the air, continuously being hit with wave after wave of electricity.

The perennial attack seemed just about more than endless, until it finally stopped and left Breaker there against four people, his body smoking from the lightning, black smears all over his clothes and skin and hair. "I guess this means you finally win, huh?" he said, his voice heavy with everyone staring at him with belittling glances and glares.

"Not just yet," a new voice came in. It was Walter who stood next to Rick, crossing his arms with the same old bored and callous stare he always withheld. After his words of reply, he swung his arm to the right, an aquatic, marine replica of his arm but enlarged so that it could wrap around a human's body bursting suddenly from the dry ground. The water hand beckoned, and Breaker couldn't resist.

The nautical arm caught Breaker in its grasp, and threw itself along with him against a hard, stone wall of one of the old-fashioned houses, the attack itself freezing into a cold, hard ice attack, trapping Breaker in a sort of prison. "So," Walter began, leaving the snotty Breaker behind, turning his back on all of it. "Should we go?"

"Yeah," Jeremy said, coming from the forest with Derek and Teresa. "I finally got the damn thing to work," he said, holding up the large, golden locket that had a blank screen now of dark green, the static noise and picture gone.

Amazing, Teresa thought as a portal opened wide like a ripple in time and space. Is this an example of what the five base elements could do together? She thought as she looked back on the extremely weakened Breaker. Before, he was the least bit tired, but after everyone else came in… he immediately went worn out. If my power alone could equal that of Eric's, Rick's, Walter's, Mark's, and Zack's together… and maybe even more… then what does that mean for me?

"Teresa, you coming?" Derek asked, one leg into the portal, no one else but him and her.

"Um, yeah, sorry," Teresa said, returning from her thoughts, stepping into the portal and to a whole knew chapter of her life, the swirling yellows and oranges taking her away to the Inner World. Then, she suddenly had this thought. Is this where it gets harder now? Now, that we've found all the Minors, and the search is all done, is this when we leave everything behind… and become so much more than we really are now? Is this when all the danger, hurt, pain, experience, and power all come in at once? These were a few of her many thoughts as she became lost in the inside of the portal, swimming in the consuming yellow and orange, the bright light soon blinding her.

At that point, she couldn't continue her thoughts, but she didn't have to. She had the future all set in her mind all ready.


	25. Chapter 25

I felt a tiny bead of sweat stream down my face from nervousness as I watched Daniel in front of me holding a card down on the floor. We both leaned down, and Kenneth, his brother, was standing next to him, his hands on his knees. Everyone watched closely, Kenneth in awe and me in wonder.

We were in the dark hallways of the Inner World, the darkened corners of the dimension darkening the scene. The red headed Minor held the card down with his index and middle fingers of his right hand, the small rectangle glowing with a bright light than reflected off our inquisitive eyes. The bright light covered the whole card and made a sphere of illumination around us, wrapping us in its holy grasp.

I didn't take my eyes off the glowing card, the only source of light in the whole dimension and the proof that Daniel was for real about his Life Minor powers. Daniel seemed to struggle with it, his powers unstable but still good enough to work. He stared at the source of light with determination, pouring all his heart out onto the small card. In reply, the light it gave off became brighter and brighter, wrapping more of it around us, becoming almost blinding.

A heavy feeling of energy filled the air, and the card began to give off a humming noise. Soon, in the beaming white sphere of light, a tinier, more petite sphere began to form a few inches above the card. It began to float around aimlessly in the air, no destination to go to, totally covered in white light.

Amazing… I thought as I stared at the floating ball of light that resisted going any higher in the air. More beads of sweat came down my temples and my head felt hot.

As if in competition, there suddenly came a stronger, brighter light that enveloped the little light we all ready had easily and effortlessly. It seemed to be coming from my right, so I turned and saw something I thought I wouldn't have seen in a while.

Right there, embedded into the wall to my right, was a swirling, diamond shaped vortex that swirled bright orange and yellow into it, just asking for someone to enter. But instead, people came out of it.

At the sight of the sudden burst, the tiny sphere of light diminished into nothing but air and the card's glowing light stopped imminently. In a sign of panic, Daniel stuffed the card back into his pocket, and tried to look normal, his stare hard against the floor. He seemed even more nervous than ever at the presence of more people when two came in, and Kenneth and mine's stare were facing directly at those two.

Both of them had brown hair, one of them all spiked up and the other one covered by a sky blue cap. "Who are you?" I asked, ready for combat, standing on my feet again in a defending post for the two new Minors.

As if on cue, a small child stepped out from the portal, one I recognized right away. "Sorry it took so long," Jeremy said at the sight of me, referring to the last few searched for the Minors.

I smiled in relief and replied, "No problem, I don't mind." I went up to him and pat him on the head, ruffling his hair up on purpose. "This is Daniel, the Life Minor, and Kenneth, the Ice Minor," I said, motioning towards the two people next to me.

As more people began to step out of the still swirling vortex, Jeremy began to introduce each one of them one by one, and shook hands with me and the other two Minors I was with. Soon, the hallway became crowded, and everyone soon became confused about what to do next. "I knew you could pull it off, Jeremy," I told him, making him smile a little.

"What now?" Rick asked, looking around, getting used to the dark surroundings. Strangely, even in the dark shadows of the dimension, everyone could see almost as good as they could outside; it's just that everything was a little darker than usual.

The portal soon stopped swirling and closed up, no more oranges and yellows to provide the light that began dying from the start. "We have to go to the Council Room," a new voice came into the conversation. Everyone looked down the long hallway to find a male with long, silver and wavy hair, standing at the end of the hallway and speaking lazily.

"Who is he?" were the words heard repeatedly throughout the group in whispers to other people, the rest of the team gathered just shrugging their shoulders unknowingly, just as confused as they were.

"Don't worry," the teenager said, walking closer. "My name is Kane Lance, the Metal Minor," he introduced himself as he paced closer towards us. "The Council needs to see us," he told everyone as he walked by, his hands stuffed in his pockets and stare full of boredom and carelessness. He turned the corner, not caring to tell us to come, as if he didn't care about anything else in the world other than him. His long, wavy hair that went to his shoulders reminded me of Shintenmaru's house-like hair, except Lance's was curvier, and more shaped like an "M"

The click of his shoes began to echo away from us, and everyone decided to follow, copying his casual pace.

I wonder what it could be, Teresa thought in her mind as she bit her index finger's nail, walking behind everyone else. What would they want to tell us?

PoVS

The room was completely dark, no source of light whatsoever, the medium sized room cramping the twelve people inside. Ironically, everyone could see, and the twelve people traded worried and ready stares. "Do you think they'll be able to handle everything we have for them?" Hababikai's voice spoke, the sound of his adult voice bouncing off the walls.

"Of course they'll be able to handle it. Although I'm almost a hundred percent sure that they damage they're going to receive is going to be quite high, I know that they'll be able to pass it. Plus, we have no choice. It's the best way thought possible," Shintenmaru and his long explanations said.

"I see… what about Jeremy?" Hibiyomi's voice chimed in, his stare so narrow but wide as always, his face still hidden in that shadowy mask, his true identity unrevealed.

"Jeremy should rest. He's had a long quest after all. Don't you think he deserves it?" Shintenmaru insisted, pushing up his glasses towards the top of his nose, reflecting the dimmest light in the world that had no source.

"We sure worked him hard, haven't we?" Minoa's always familiar and friendly voice said, her sound always graceful and angelic.

"Yeah," Shintenmaru agreed. "But we have to keep in our minds that all of this isn't just about the Minors. We need to see if Jeremy will become a threat to us later on. Seeing to that is just as important as anything else we have to do. Having that much of a variety of power inside you… it isn't normal," Shintenmaru commented, his voice deep with a tell-it-like-it-is kind of tone.

"When should we be expecting the Minors?" Hanabikai asked, his voice wandering off, all choked out.

"Right about now," Shintenmaru said, his message surprising everyone. As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, surprising everyone even more.

"Heh," Hanabikai scoffed. "Over five hundred years of being with this guy, and I still don't know how he does that," he said, telling the truth, making everyone laugh just a little in their heads and private thoughts. "Come in," Hanabikai said, deeper and in a less joking tone than before, referring to the door.

The door opened on cue with a creak and ominous motion that could've scared the creeps out of anyone who was new to the dimension.

A whole group walked in, filling the room even more with more dim light pouring in from the outside hallway. Footsteps and clicking of shoes were heard throughout the whole entrance, and everyone stood behind the claimed Metal Minor. "Well, you've gathered quite a team, haven't you?" Shintenmaru commented on Jeremy's work as he saw the thirteen more people, including Jeremy, come into the room.

Around the room, some people could be seen with shocked expression on their faces, not realizing until that very moment that they would come face to face with the Council, the same Council who saved the world from the Ebon Age.

"They want to know what happens next," Lance said, yawning right after his message, putting one hand to his mouth to cover the widened lips. He gave a lazy sigh and waited for a reply.

"I see. Well, we know most likely White Cloak isn't going to give up coming after you twelve, so we have to prepare for the worst," Shintenmaru began the correct answer, not going specific enough.

"How?" a bunch of people asked at the same time, the different voices mixing together in the same tone that rang around the room.

At this point, both party's eyes were locked on each other's, a number of twenty-five people in the room. "We have a plan," Shintenmaru explained. "It's a type of training. I think you'll like it, actually. It begins right away."

"We'll lead you guys there," Hanabikai said, insisting on being the "guide" for now. He exited the room along with every other Council member, and every Minor followed, leaving Jeremy alone in the room with Shintenmaru who always seemed to walk the slowest but was the fastest when it came down to it.

"Don't take too long training though," Tsukansu warned. "The longer you guys take, the more work will pile up for us to do. We can't let another Ebon Age happen again, now can we?" he said as his voice bounced off the corridor walls, the whole team turning, the clicking of shoes becoming more and more distant.

"Listen Jeremy, I need to talk to you," Shintenmaru suddenly said, standing in front of the door, the small child in the middle of the dark room.

"Hm? What is it, Shintenmaru-sama?" Jeremy asked with his innocent eyes, having no idea what Shintenmaru would want to talk to him about.

"I just wanted to say…" Shintenmaru seemed to stall for a second. "You know that time when you contacted me on the boat, and I wasn't too friendly?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah… I remember," Jeremy said, remembering that sad day when he had almost cried himself to sleep.

"I'm sorry about that, you know how it is, right? Work is a lot of stress and, even though you really were doing a great job, we have like twenty things going on at once in here. You get it right?" Shintenmaru apologized.

"Yeah, I guess," Jeremy said, raising his look from the floor. "It's okay, I understand completely," he half lied.

"Good," Shintenmaru replied, waving a goodbye to Jeremy as he went out the door to catch up with the group. "Oh and by the way," Shintenmaru almost forgot.

"Yes?" Jeremy yelled from the room to Shintenmaru's voice in the hallway.

"You can stay inside. This training thing is kind of private, you know?" Shintenmaru insisted.

"Oh, I see. What do you mean inside? You're going outside?" I asked him, my voice a bit confused.

"Yeah," came Jeremy's reply.

"Outside as in the Outer World? Isn't it kind of dangerous to train there if White Cloak can sense their powers there?" the little boy asked, poking his head from out the door.

"No outside as in… outside of this tower…" Shintenmaru blankly replied in a low voice.

"Wait, there's an outside? Outside like sunshine, trees, mountains?" Jeremy looking more confused than ever.

"Yeah… what about it?" Shintenmaru asked as if Jeremy were telling him something only a crazy person would say.

"Oh, okay," Jeremy said, pulling himself back into the room. The color drained out from his whole body, even his clothes as he laid his back against the wall for support. His stare went baffled and hysterical, his eyebrow twitching. Five years in this place… Jeremy thought, his interior voice cracking up. Five years in this place… and I never knew there was an outside?!?!?!!? He cried in his mind, ready to kill himself for being so stupid.

PoVS

Hanabikai opened the door wide, light pouring in from outside. He breathed in a large deal of fresh air and sighed it out in a deep breath. "Fresh air," he declared. "It's been a long time since we've used this place."

"Can we just go?" Walter asked impatiently, walking past him.

Hanabikai put on a mean, disliking face and flash jumped in front of Walter, blocking his way. "You're going to have to wait until we explain everything first, okay?" he demanded, not the least bit of decency for Walter.

Walter did nothing but scoffed in front of Hanabikai's face, saying "Whatever."

Everybody in the group came out, including Shintenmaru. The Council stood in front of the Minors, and looked all powerful and demanding in front of everyone. "Is everyone here?" Hanabikai asked declaratively, standing in the middle of the robed Councils.

"Wait! Wait for me!" a familiar voice to most people rang in. Everyone turned to one side in curiosity and found a girl, blonde and panicky looking running towards them. When she finally reached them, she panted and panted, and swept a few strands of hair away from her small, round face. "Sorry, I was just finishing up," she said.

"It's okay Marissa-san, just be sure it doesn't happen again," Hanabikai told her, turning back to the group in front of him. Hanabikai was a strong man, had a body builder's look, his forearms large and strong, not at all too big, his brown hair spiked up straight except one strand that hang from the right side of his face. His orange, boyish eyes shone bright with friendship but also with a sense of demanding, his height taller than most people, and even though he had lived for over five centuries just like every Council Member, and he seemed like a man in his early twenties just starting his life. His smile, when seen would be a sort of smirk but showed kindness all the same. "Okay, from here on now, we separate," he declared.

"Wait. Separate? What do you-," Rick tried to ask, but his sentence was cut off by Hanabikai stomping his foot onto the dirt ground, the sun shining high above everyone. Blue circles of light began to surround each individual person as a result, and a blue pillar of shining rays beamed up to the sky from each person's position, and when the pillars came back down, the blue pillars died out, and all the people who were there before, weren't anymore, separating as Hanabikai had warned.

Above, the sun shone brighter and brighter in the sky, as if declaring that war had finally begun.


	26. Chapter 26

I looked around me to find my surroundings, a whole bunch of trees that stuck in the ground like tall guardians, the sun set high in the sky like a holy sphere of hope from God, and a lake just ahead, the blue green waters swaying slowly with the wind.

I walked forward, pacing slowly, my feet dragging across the floor. I stared deep into the water, staring at my reflection that glared back with a shivering manner, like he was cold. The brown eyes beckoned meanly at me, the brown hair swaying slowly with the soft, cool wind. "Some training," I muttered under my breath.

"Is that so? It's only a matter if you're ready," Tsukansu's voice rang in, appearing behind me. "What do you think, Walter-san?"

I sighed. "Hmph," I muttered. "And how exactly do we-," I was cut off as I tried to turn around to face Tsukansu in the eye. My sentence was interrupted by a huge punch to my cheek as I turned to face the Water Council.

The huge hit sent me flying and got my jaw feeling weak, catching me by surprise and sending a wave of fear and shock to my emotions. My body flew through the air smoothly and quickly, riding on the water of the lake and landing all the way to the other end of the blue green waters. Above, the sun shone brightly down on me as almost all my body was consumed by the water of the lake. I stared towards Tsukansu's direction all the way across the lake, still wondering why he had chosen to go berserk on me all of a sudden.

Tsukansu and I traded mean looks, until I finally asked, "What're you doing…?" I choked out with water spilling from my throat. I guess I swallowed some when I was in the air. Heh, this guy really is strong if he can punch like that.

"Training, of course," Tsukansu said seriously, the look in his eyes not joking around. His robes seemed to sway in every direction with the wind, his big thing of hair in front of his face swimming in the air as well, his dark brown eyes beaming in the growing sunlight.

"How is trying to beat me up a type of training?" I asked angrily, feeling the water completely soak my clothes and wet my whole entire body except my torso up. As I waited for the reply, the lake of blue green seemed to crash into me with powerless currents, trying to pull me down into the black waters below.

"Don't stress about it," Tsukansu said, still standing in his place at the other end of the lake. "You're not the only one. Every other Minor is with their Council counterpart doing the same thing."

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, still confused about how this would help me get better and gain more power, the power that I needed to take down Void Core, the organization that killed my mother.

"Me coming after you with all my power should force you to use your own powers. Just so you know though, your regular power that you used back in the Outer World won't be enough. You're going to have to try harder than that. Much harder," Tsukansu explained, shifting his weight in the dirt ground surrounding the lake like a border, dust rising from the shifting of feet.

"How am I supposed to beat someone who has my power increased by more than over million-fold?" I asked, still angry that he had decided this so suddenly. I guess there's no rest when it comes to being someone like me, I thought, trying to lift myself back into the dirt ground where I could dry off, my clothes all dark and soggy, heavy with the dark water of the lake.

"That's for you to figure out," he said, not answering my question. Damn it, I thought. This is going to be hard. "Come!" he insisted, his position shifting and his appearance disappearing.

He ran across the lake with lightning speed as I still tried to get back to dry land. "Marine Lotus!" I heard him cry. Oh, crap. What's he got for me now? I turned around as I took my right foot out of the water, staring hard into the lake and the rushing image of Tsukansu coming towards me. I knew I should be somewhat panicky and whatnot, but for some reason, I wasn't. I really didn't care what happened, I guess.

As the rushing image of brown, blue, and white came closer, the water behind him began to twist and turn into some kind of growing twister, shaping the top into a kind of lotus form, the whole thing spinning wildly, looking like a newly blossomed real-life lotus in the spring. It spun crazily behind Tsukansu and followed him like a dog. It passed by him and attacked me headfirst.

The friction it was causing with the air was at such a high rate, my clothes even began fluttering, even though they were soaked with water all ready. Nothing was heard but the rushing of water coming towards me, the gigantic blue lotus spinning at me, threatening me with its aquatic petals, spinning like an electric fan during the summer.

As it inched closer, two feet by the second, I decided to jump away to a nearby tree branch, the water crashing into the ground and barely missing me, making a humungous hole at least five feet deep. What am I supposed to do with techniques like that? Damn it… what now? What?

"Don't waste time!" I heard Tsukansu shout from somewhere. I looked around but couldn't find any sign of him, and was even more surprised when I turned around to find an arm made of water with a huge hand like I had made before, the Aqua Reacher taking me by the back, my realization of it too slow. It grabbed me by the shoulders, back, and hips and thrust me into the lake water below, my body now sinking in the blue green waters.

I was facing upward; my body inching down below to the blackness that covered the whole aquatic arena Tsukansu and I were fighting in. I looked up to find the sunlight pouring in from the waters, the shimmering light shaking like a snake pattern on the fanning waters. My body felt even more soaked and heavier than ever, my arms slowed by the surrounding cold waters, the oxygen from my mouth coming out in bubbles that floated up, trying to reach the sky, their dreams and stars but failing to even get out of the water. My eyes were half open now, and the dark water filled my ears. I heard nothing but bubbling and water rushing in, my eyes and hair completely sopped as I took a last look as I sunk back into the darkness.

Crap… what am I supposed to do now…? This can't be the end…

Above the water, Tsukansu was placed on the lake in the middle, his feet still on the water and swaying with the unsteady waters below. He looked down into the water to search for any sign of Walter. Come on, kid. I know you can do this, Tsukansu thought as he stared, disliking the darkness he saw. I know you have the motivation in you. You have it in your eyes. Just like I had once, as well…

PoVS

Darkness surrounded me everywhere, the cool air that went along with it dropping the temperature constantly. Where am I? I thought. I heard the dripping of water around me against the hard floor I stood on, my eyes moving back and forth, trying to see anything, trying to get adjusted to the darkness. But they couldn't. All I saw was pitch-blackness. Nothing more.

My heart grew still as I breathed heavily, becoming more and more scared by the second as to my location. Suddenly, I was knocked back in the chest to a wall that supported me, the rough, rocky surface of it providing no comfort. The smell of cool, gray water filled the air. What was that? I thought. Is there someone else here? I kept my hands by my side on the wall for support. I coughed out cold air and dust. The dirty air was beginning to fill my lungs. I couldn't survive long like this, I thought as the dripping of water droplets rang in my ears.

I heard someone's voice call out to me all of a sudden. I turned to my sides, trying to sense a presence, but found nothing. Then the voice called out to me again, repeating my name. "W-What?" I asked, confused and completely baffled. "Hibiyomi?" I recognized. "Where are we?" I asked, wanting answers. How did I get from a grassy, sunny plain to a dark, stony place like this?

"We're…training," he said, barely answer my question. His voice seemed to come from every direction, the stony walls around us making the sound waves bounce everywhere. His voice was a bit weak but low, the kind that would belong to a mysterious person.

"What? Training?" I asked. "How?" I questioned, still trying to find any other sign as to the location of Hibiyomi, my senses of sight completely useless at the moment. The cold air continued to wrap around me, creating a dark and lonely scene.

"Derek…" he called my name once more. "You're supposed to come after me the best you can. I will grade you accordingly," the words bouncing everywhere.

"But…how can I do that? It's too dark here, I can't see a thing," I told him, wanting the thing that seemed to be infinite darkness to be over. The rough surface of the wall supporting my back began to get old as I drained all the sense of security from it.

"That's just it. You're the Shadow Minor," he reminded me in his low voice. "You should be able to use 'Sight', the ability that lets you sense and see in the dark better. Even in pitch-darkness."

"How do I use it though? I'm too confused," I told him, wanting more information out of him.

"That, I can't tell you. You're going to have to figure it out for yourself," he said. Thanks a lot, I thought. "From now on, there's no joking around!" he declared louder this time, his voice booming off the walls like a million people talking at once, confusing the indistinctive conversation in the are of limited space that didn't seem to have a limit.

I took a sharp breath, sensing something coming towards me, unlike before. I ducked before that thing reached me, only a few seconds later hearing a small crash above me and felt rocks coming down onto my back and neck, dusting my straight black spiky hair with dirt. I covered my head with my hands for cover, and began to breathe hard, feeling a presence right in front of me, but too afraid to look up. What was the use? I couldn't see anything, anyway.

"Good," Hibiyomi's voice closer now. "Looks like its starting to work a little. But if you want to use it to your full extent, then you would've sensed that attack a second right after I decided to use it," he said, talking more than he would usually. This thing was really serious. They're really coming after us with the intention of death. Can I survive this? If I almost got killed by someone like Eruption, wouldn't I die even easily by the Shadow Council? Damn it, I thought. Why does this have to happen now?

PoVS

I was sent through the blue light to some kind of sandy, rocky plains. It reminded me of Jagrock, kind of. With all that dust and dirt, it's going to remind anyone of Jagrock. I stood in the hot, sandy air as I waited for something I didn't know was coming.

I stared into Kanadou, the Earth Council's eyes. I thought this might actually be kind of fun, fighting against a Council Member. I was pretty excited. He hid behind that half black, half white mask with two narrow and slanted eyeholes that seemed to glow an evil stare. A bush of brown spiky hair seemed to cover his whole head, even at the sides. His spiky hair wasn't like Hanabikai's or Derek's. Unlike them, Kanadou had his spiky hair covering all around, like a disheveled form.

You would think that someone who looked like him in that creepy mask would actually be mean and heartless, but if you heard his friendly, kind-hearted voice, you'd change all that. You'd probably call yourself an idiot, too, for thinking something like that. I did.

We continued to stare at each other for another thirty seconds straight, both of us the only people that seemed to be in the whole arena of sandy and dusty air. "So?" I asked. "Are you going to come after me or not?" I provoked, wanting to get started.

He said nothing in reply and zoomed out of position. He sped towards me from behind, I knew. I turned around to block his punch with my sleeveless forearm, giving him a knowing smirk as the impact effect shook, unstable. "Too predictable. I maybe a Minor compared to your powers, but I'm a master at the Tai arts and physical strength fighting," I told him, feeling proud of the title I had earned in my hometown.

After deciding I was becoming too showy, I ducked and let his attack fly by, and decided to sweep kick him down on the floor. He sped out of the way, his figure seeming to suddenly disappear, and at the same time, the ground below began to crack and rise indistinctively and randomly, protruding from the ground with a normal speed.

I jumped from lower elevation to lower elevation, the ground beneath my feet cracking and breaking, all the while rising to the challenge. The shifting of stones was the only thing that was heard in the hot plains, and until I got to flat ground, I wouldn't give up.

Once I landed back down, I found Kanadou right ahead, only a few feet between us. "You don't understand," he stated bluntly. "I'm also a master at both Earth Free Spirit powers and physical strength!" he boasted, his figure speeding away again.

He skipped the two feet between us and launched a regular punch at me. I ducked it off and he tried to sweep kick me down just like I had done to him, but I dodged that too, back-flipping a few more feet away from him. I can dodge these attacks easily, I thought. This guy's really no challenge at all, is he? I got into position, shifting my weight. Then I went after him, launching my own punch at Kanadou. He ducked the punch away as well, and tried for a punch to my head. I backed away from it, the attack only a few centimeters away from the tip of my nose.

I saw the chance and took his arm in the grip of my right hand, and pulled him closer. He forcefully came, and I took his other arm, jumping to place my feet on his chest. We stayed in that position, his body bound to break off with no arms any moment with my inhuman strength.

As we stayed stationary in the position for at least a minute more, his eyes beneath the white and black mask looked like they were about to pop out, and I could tell that he couldn't breath thanks to me stepping into it. "Die!" I declared, smiling.

Soon, the color seemed to drain from his eyes, his mask, his hair, and even his clothes, which was abnormal. A sort of cracking was heard, and the skin I felt under his robe sleeves began to solidify, as if he were turning into ice.

The color completely drained out and now he was like a statue with a frozen expression on his face. The cracking continued to grow louder and louder until finally, the body completely broke, losing its arms in my hold. The torso broke off completely and the legs were torn up, bits and pieces of the stone lying on the floor, the head on the floor staring up to me like an accusing stare. I dropped the two arms that were still in my hand to the sandy floor, freaking out on the inside.

"W-What happened? You're made of stone?" I asked, my voice choking and my eyes staring at the head that wouldn't answer me at all since it was made of stone, and stone only.

"No," I heard Kanadou's voice ring behind me. I was actually thankful and relieved that I heard his voice as I turned around to face his unfriendly stare but kindhearted voice facing back at me. "Lesson One: Stone Form. A good way to begin a fight is making a stone replica to fool the enemy," he stated, sounding smart and superior to me, which he really was but I didn't like to accept that.

He ran towards me with a high speed, trying an uppercut with his fist on me. I moved backward, dodging his attack, thinking again that I was superior to him. His fist was high in the air, and he had swung it a little too hard. I was about to scoff at him until- just then, the circle of ground I had been stepping on roared and cracked, rising up into the air a foot a second.

Soon, I got a head rush and felt nothing beneath me that held me up as I stared down to the clouds below me, the hot sun in my face even more, blinding me. I couldn't move my feet, I realized. Otherwise, I'll fall. I'll fall all the way back from the top of the clouds to the top of the sand-dirty surface. Oh god, I thought. I'm in deep crap.

"Lesson Two," I heard his voice echo from the depths of below, my stomach feeling light and my head light headed. "It's good to have skills in physical strength and combat, but make sure you don't forget about mixing a little of your earth control powers in it too."

I scoffed at his mocking me as I tried to stare back down, the holes in the clouds providing little sight for the surface below. But I had a feeling I didn't want to see the ground. Otherwise, I just might throw up and fall off. "Come on, kid. Where's your creativity?" he laughed. I muttered a string of curses under my breath as I wondered. How the hell am I going to get off of this? I thought as I brushed off a bead of sweat away from my forehead with my hot, tanned forearm.


	27. Chapter 27

Mark stayed in place on that thin, high pillar in the sky, above all the clouds with the hot, blazing sun right in his face, his whole body perspiring. Barely would he get a breeze that comforted him as he stood straight up, afraid to move because of the fragile pillar he was balancing his weight on. I need a way to get down, he thought. But how?

All of a sudden, there was a loud rumbling below. Oh god, please don't let that be the pillar. Lucky for him, it wasn't. The rumbling became closer and closer to him, until Mark saw the Earth Council, Kanadou rise up on a large, rocky platform that seemed so much more comfortable than the sliver of ground and rock Mark was standing on.

"Hey, how're you doing up there?" Kanadou asked, his face covered in that black-white mask, the eyeholes of the thin mask piercing like an arrow.

"Hmph," Mark scoffed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, closed his eyes in disgust and faced the other direction, his spiky front of his brown hair swaying softly in the hot, humid air. "What's it to you?" he mumbled grumpily.

"Sorry if I'm giving you a hard time. Why don't you deal with it like every other bad thing that happens in life? This is just a fraction of what I could do to you, boy," Kanadou said in that high, rising platform of his, his arms crossed as well, his devious stare tricky and untrustworthy.

Mark reopened his eyes and turned to face Kanadou again. "Oh, shut up, I don't need a lecture from someone like you," he told him, grumbling his words out. "In fact, I don't need you at all," Mark stated as he had a brilliant idea, looking at the wide space Kanadou had right now to move around.

Mark shifted his weight on that rocky skyscraper above the clouds, ready to jump off that slender tower and onto the platform where he had more space to move around once he knocked Kanadou off of it. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Kanadou said, reading Mark's movements. "This platform I'm standing on has only enough strength to hold my weight. An ounce more and it'll crash down to the floor."

Mark rebalanced his weight and smirked with another brilliant idea in mind. "Is that so?" he asked, rummaging through his pockets to find a balled up paper napkin he had forgotten to thrown out a long time ago. Using the least amount of energy required, he dropped the paper ball onto the platform, trying to force Kanadou to fall all the way back down the rocky plains.

At the same time of Mark's trick, Kanadou leaped off the platform, the paper ball replacing his weight and his body in midair. But all was not lost, since another earth platform from below raced up to support Kanadou, new and more capable.

No longer needed, the first platform crashed down below, first bits and pieces of it falling off, and the whole thing collapsing, making dust fly in every direction. "Yeah," Kanadou told Mark with his arms crossed tighter, his council robes swaying freely in the air, his body not as sweaty and hot as Mark's was. The sun soon became blinding, and Mark soon became tired. "If you really think that you can beat me by solely relying on your physical skills in hand to hand combat, you're wrong. Don't underestimate your enemy. You think White Cloak will fall victim to your kicks and punches? No," Kanadou stated truthfully, his voice strict and loud enough for Mark to hear. "So now, come at me like the Earth Minor that you really are!" Kanadou declared.

With one motion of his hands, Kanadou sent three whipping pillars from the back of his platform and knocked Mark off the pillar in the sky, pushing him downward and crashing into the ground with a loud clatter.

Kanadou jumped off his place on the platform which began to sink down into its place below again. His robes fluttered loudly in the uprising air as Kanadou fell back down on his feet, his shoes landing with a click. The loud echo of his shoes' presence on the floor sent two more pillars flying towards Mark's direction, his body surely flat on the floor with crumbled crags of rocks with his limbs tired out and his chest bruised thanks to the downfall the first attack caused him.

Far away, Mark stood up, surprised that he could even move after falling from such an altitude. He saw two more pillars in the distance stretch closer, ready to cause more pain for him. Well, it's not going to happen this time, he thought. He pounced his hands against the ground, and with a large echo, clay from the rocky floor began to surround him in a half sphere, also covering him in darkness. The peaceful ebony that surrounded Mark felt cold against his skin, cooling the sweat off his body. He breathed heavily, the sounds of inhaling and exhaling echoing off the spherical dome around him and bouncing back to him to ring in his ears repeatedly like a whispering ghost.

Outside, the rock pillars inch closer and closer with great force and broke into the dome easily, making the still wet clay fly everywhere like sand and grabbing after Mark, breaking his only shield like it was a paper shell.

In order to dodge the attack, Mark jumped up from the clay, dodging the wild rock snakes with no heads. "You want more earth? You've got it!" he declared, punching his fist into the ground. In reply, the ground shook wildly for two seconds and rising pillars about five feet tall began racing and emerging like missiles, staying in their place like a silent, sad monument for every sorrowful and grieved memory every person on earth had to carry on their back for the rest of their life. They rose up with such force; it shook the ground with every rising.

The attack inched closer and closer in Kanadou's direction. They were only one pillar away when Kanadou stopped the attack in its tracks, breaking the pillars closest to him one by one like a line of exploding dominos. "Come on," Kanadou pleaded. "Where's your sense of creativity? Let me tell you something. There's nothing more to the Earth Element tan creativity and how you use it by your side in certain situations," he lectured.

Mark stood up on his feet, knowing that his attack failed, he listened carefully but reluctantly. "So let me make you a deal," Kanadou continued. "I'll say that you've won this fight if you can survive this one last attack."

"Really?" Mark asked with wide eyes and disbelief. "No way," he muttered under his breath. "Okay, this'll be easy then, no problem," Mark scoffed with a snobby smirk, happy to have an opportunity to get the fight over with.

He's overconfident, Kanadou thought in his mind as he gathered up the energy for the attack in his body. Ha, reminds me when I was young. Kanadou finished the energy preparations and clasped his hands together loudly, the echoing smack of the two palms impacting together bouncing off every rock and stone. Soon, rocks began to come from the ground, large ones and small, tiny ones. They arose from every direction thought possible to the human mind and merged together in front of Kanadou a few feet away from him.

They placed themselves into each other easily, like they had the plan all figured out on what to build, as if they were a Lego set. It absorbed more rocks and dirt like a magnet, the clattering of stone pieces and rocks together the only thing that could be heard in the desert. "Get ready…!" Kanadou yelled in an uprising voice. Mark watched carefully, shifting equal amounts of his weight to both his legs, ready to run in any direction.

If I at least dodge it, then this will be over. All over, Mark thought with too much self esteem, watching the rocks form carefully. They made a sort of dog-like figure. A huge one at that. It was at least forty feet high and sixty feet long with its width exceeding fifteen feet. As the very last pieces of rocks piled into it, Mark could finally see that it was a wolf made of rock, cracks spread throughout its body, showing the distinction between each rock used to make this half animal, half earth thing.

"What…What is that?" Mark mumbled under his breath in awe and fear.

"Chuuko Sabaku Gikou: Hakaisha Daichi Ookami! Old Desert Technique: Destroyer Plateau Wolf!" Kanadou shouted loudly, declaring the attack, if it could be considered one.

"That…That thing is the attack?!" Mark cried out as he stared up wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, staring at the gigantic beast that shone its presence in the rocky plains, growling with its cragged teeth made of triangular stones, its eyes glaring red like a demon of the rocks. It laid its shadow upon Mark, who continued to stare in fear, never glancing away, its humungous body blocking even the sun's light, the insolation framing the monster with a holy glow.

As Mark felt his hopes sink down to the depths of his body, he took a big gulp, trying to swallow down the panic. Boy, am I in for it, he thought, his body and limbs seeming frozen.

PoVS

Marissa and the Sound Council, Dirondo, were in the grassy plains with the hot, blazing sun casting its blanket of warmth around them as they fought rigorously, only using hand to hand combat combined with screeching sound as they made attacks on each other.

"You're pretty good," Dirondo said in her high, girly voice, brushing her long brown hair away. Dirondo's hair was pure brown, and two almost invisible strands of it hung from the front that was decorated with two beads on each one that rattled every time she made a sudden movement.

She blocked as the blonde girl made move after move on her, every contact with body parts echoing in a sound wave with elevated volume, each attack trying to deafen the opponent. "No, you're pretty good," Marissa complimented, attempting a sweep kick but missing.

No, really, you're good, Dirondo thought in her mind, knowing that Marissa could not hear her. She's mastered all the concepts of the sound element all ready. Everything out of everything. It's amazing how much she grew in such short notice. Wow…

"Sound Spinner!" Marissa declared as she held two spheres of circling sound waves a few feet away from Dirondo, merging the two balls together and forcing them out in a sort of twister.

"Volume Cutter!" Dirondo declared, stopping the attack in its tracks. "Listen," Dirondo said, stopping her readied movement, as if to call a tie.

"Huh? What? Don't you want to keep sparring? Its fun," Marissa told her excitedly, taking small breaths to recover it before she got tired.

"No, that's not it. The point of this exercise was to make you realize how the Sound Element works and how you can use it. But you all ready know all of it, so there's not much I can teach you now. All that's left for you is to develop your own attacks in your own style in whatever way works for you," Dirondo told her, causing Marissa to stop her readied pose as well, both of them finally relaxing only after a short while.

"Oh, I see," Marissa told her, looking disappointed that she couldn't show off a little more.

"Hah," Dirondo laughed. "I didn't realize you grew so much in your little time here," she told the blonde one. "So in that case, let's call it a tie, all right?" she asked with a friendly smile, Marissa giving one back. She reminds me so much of when I had my powers for the first time and learned how to use them. I think she'll do fine against White Cloak, Dirondo thought as she nodded her head to one side, sitting in the swaying grass. I wonder if she's the first one done. That'd be great if she were.

PoVS

He's really going all out on me, Walter thought, the surrounding, cold water filling every aspect of his clothing, his body slowly sinking into the pitch blackness everyone called deep underwater. And I'm pretty sure he's not going to let me get away from this lake, so what now? What can I do? Walter thought as he felt his lungs lose oxygen, about to burst, releasing tiny bubbles of air into the water.

Suddenly, Tsukansu came a few feet away from Walter, standing in the water as if he was being supported. His clothes swayed in the water and his face showed nothing but comfort in the cold, overtaking water. "If you going to beat me, you're going to have to learn something," he told Walter, who was listening but showed no reaction, his eyes half closed.

"And…what might that be?" Walter mumbled slowly, feeling the water drown him, his brain beginning to fill with the cold liquid.

"Why don't you figure it out? I'm sure you can. I know you're not going to give up on your life now," Tsukansu said, relating to something Walter didn't know he knew about, which is why Walter's eyes went wide witch shock. "Marine Snakes!" Tsukansu declared, his voice echoing through the water, his body seeming completely dry even though he was completely underwater.

As if out of nowhere, long, barely visible aquatic snakes raced towards Walter, who didn't seem like he cared whether or not what happened to him now. I never did care about myself and where my path of life lead, Walter realized. It's time to start caring then. First, I need a better way of getting around in this water. But what? Swimming is pointless.

All of a sudden, the idea came to him out of nowhere, causing his eyes to expand and dilate to half their size on their own. Got it! Walter thought. Just as the snakes were inching towards him, he flipped himself up in the water, the liquid bubbling around him. I have to get out of this water, he thought. The first snake missed him by inches and Walter places his foot on it, and then jumped off it with great force.

He used the Marine Snake as a jumping supporter! Which means… could he really have learned what I was talking about all ready?

Outside, Walter emerged from the blue green waters, still flying sky high like a missile, feeling the cold, fresh air rush through his freezing, soppy clothes. Also popping out of the lake like a missile, the last snake came at him, hissing its transparent tongue crazily in hunger.

It caught up to Walter's speed as gravity began to bring him back down, his body now crashing downward and back into the water, meeting the snake's body at some point. This is it. Now! he called upon himself. In midair, his body racing down like a raindrop, he turned and put his leg out until it made contact with the snake's long body, the shoe strongly striding down the slim body of the aquatic length, water rushing outward. "Marine Shatter!" he cried out as his hair fluttered against his forehead, touching it with its cool touch.

Soon, the shaft of the dangerous snake began to freeze and turn more solid-like. The whole thing began to turn into an ice sculpture and cracked wildly. At the same moment, Tsukansu rose from the water, his clothes and skin completely dry and warm, his eyes upon the falling body of Walter and the freezing pillar of his attack. "Maybe you have really learned the move after all," he mumbled as he stood carefully and fragile on the swaying lake's waters.

Just as Walter crashed into the water, he flipped around his body again, placing his feet on the water and taking the time to regain his energy from the hard fall. He strained to stand back up, his feet placed on the water just like Tsukansu's were. At the same time, the frozen snake shattered louder and louder, its body piecing off and falling into the water behind Walter.

The ice pieces plopped wildly like raining large pieces of hail. Walter stood there, arms crossed in front of him with a hard stare. "Is this what you were talking about? The thing I had to learn in order to beat you here?" Walter said, referring to his stance perfectly on the water, not stumbling or falling over like he would usually do before the fight.

"Fast learner," Tsukansu said, a bit proud, both of them facing each other as more of the ice crashed down into the water, plopping like a big water drop.

"Not really," Walter told him, his presence rushing away, his whereabouts unknown now. Tsukansu looked around for any sign of his position, but couldn't find one. This one could become trouble, Tsukansu thought in his mind as he continued searching frantically. "It wasn't that hard," Walter's voice reappeared along with his body, right next to Tsukansu, giving him a hard punch to the right side of his cheek, making him fall over and fly a few feet away.

Walter cracked his knuckles as he stood in place this time, making no attempt to go for another attack. "Only godly beings can walk on water, and neither you nor I are godly," Walter clearly stated. "But, on the other hand, any live thing can stand on ice. So by freezing the area of water covered by my feet, I can 'stand' on water. But when my feet move away, it quickly melts back into lake water."

"Then there's really not much I can teach you now, is there?" Tsukansu told Walter, standing back up on his feet, the hot sun slowly being covered up by the blue white clouds above. Tsukansu sent a blast of water to Walter's position, who dodged it easily by disappearing and reappearing quickly into the air.

As Tsukansu saw the chance, he breathed a whole thing of air and sent it out in an aquatic stream like he did when he was fighting White Cloak. I don't think White Cloak will take Walter down easily as long as he keeps practicing.

In midair, the attack came closer to him, but Walter inched away from it. "Marine Shatter!" he declared again, turning his body in midair and kicking the water, freezing it, then breaking it to little ice shards. "Nope, not much you can teach me now," Walter said, standing on a patch of ice he had frozen, standing up on it as it lifted him back to the ground gently and gracefully.

PoVS

Teresa hid behind a tree that barely gave her any support as she gripped the sides of her head tightly, her heart in panic and fear. Dust clouds surrounded everything behind her and branches and rocks flew in every direction. Her eyes shook as her heart felt like it was about to implode. I... I don't want to be here… Why am I here? Teresa asked herself over and over again.

Inside the cloud of dust and dirt, Minoa stood proudly against the sun's light wondering what to do with Teresa. Looks like we'll have trouble with this one, she thought in her mind as she appeared in front of the scared teenager, casting her shadow over her, flash jumping. "Why don't you use your powers?"

Teresa looked up to find the silver haired woman with pale, white eyes staring right at her, her hands still at her head's sides. "I…I can't," she replied, her voice shaking and trembling in fear.

"Yes, you can. Or else I'll force it out of you!" Minoa demanded, gathering her telekinetic energy into her finger and placing it on the girl's forehead, right away the girl being pushed back with a great force, crashing through the tree she desperately hid behind and pushing her all the way into the dusty middle of the forest.

She's resisting it, Minoa realized. She doesn't want it to take over her. But if she doesn't even use it a little, she's dead. "Force Wielded Whip!" Minoa declared as she gathered her force field energy into her right hand and making a thin whip emerge from it, slashing everything surrounding Minoa on its own. Minoa threw it in the cloud of smoke, the whip's hold gripping Teresa tightly so she wouldn't escape, and wrapping around her arms.

"Don't try to resist it. It'll cut you otherwise," Minoa told Teresa as the smoke cleared and revealed the struggling teenage girl with the violet hair. Teresa followed, but had a reluctant and angry expression tightened on her face. "So, I heard that you went on an outburst before with your powers," Minoa began a topic of conversation.

"So? How would you know?" Teresa grumbled angrily through gritted teeth, her hair disheveled and in front of her face.

"Because, it's happened to me before as well. Plus that's probably the reason why your arms are wrapped up in bandages. Using the force field power to an over-leveled extent will rip your skin off. That's why you have to learn how to control it. You want to pay back the lives you accidentally took at the mental institute incident, don't you?

Her eyes immediately went wide in shock after she heard that. "You…You know about that?" she asked, her body feeling weak.

"I know almost everything about you. Especially your ability to see spirits," Minoa told her, the whip still connecting the two people.

Teresa put a disdainful face on and stared hard at Minoa and gritted her teeth harder. "What…What would you know? What would you know about being locked up in a cage? What would you know about how I felt for the past three years and the hell I had to deal with because of my spirit sight? Huh?!" she yelled in despair, half crying, about to break down, her voice loud and angry with the emotion bottled inside of her she was forced to keep inside for so long.

Along with the strong emotion, purple energy began to outline her, her gritted teeth became empowered with more pressure, and her stare became narrow and glowed purple, a stressed look all over her body. The purple energy was overtaking, and with telekinetic force, Teresa knocked the constriction of the whip made of the same material used for the force field defense away from her, the whip drawn back in and disappearing.

"I know…" Minoa said softly, closing her narrowed eyes, as if gaining energy, her pale white stare being locked up. "Because I have it too!" Minoa declared as she reopened her eyes with much force, a black traced pentacle engraved in her eyes now, showing proof of what she was saying.

"W…What?" Teresa asked, confused, her voice cracking up and her eyes tearing with confusion.

"Let's see," Minoa began to explain, putting her five edged star engraved eyes away. "If you're the one right after me, that would make…" she paused for a minute as she did easy math in her head. "Ninety seven generations," she said as she put he stare on Teresa who was standing there, breathing hard, still confused.

"What…What are you talking about?" Teresa breathed heavily, unable to comprehend what Minoa was telling her.

"I'm saying that every ninety seven or so generations in your family has one child that has been given the power of spiritual sight. Because each one is so far apart, the past ones never get a chance to tell the one after them because they die by the time the next one is born," Minoa explained, making a few things clear to Teresa now, who was listening with wide eyes as the older woman explained everything to her. "So as a result, sometimes when they let the secret out, others call them crazy or something and they eventually get locked up in mental institutions, and sometimes, they believe it, since they don't know the truth. But because I am a Council Member, and I have been given eternal life, I can tell the next one. Which would be… you.'

"N-No way," Teresa replied in a stumbling voice and slanted eyes, ready to cry and break down.

"Now that you know the truth, get rid of the weakness in stability in your state of mind. It's only because of that is the reason that your powers can control and take over you so easily. You're not crazy. You're normal. So get it through that thick head of yours. Now, fight me!" Minoa declared. "Force-Wielded Lightning!" Minoa called upon, force field energy surrounding her hand, blasting and chirping towards Teresa like a claw.

"No," Teresa mumbled under her breath, somehow causing the lightning to stop in its tracks and get traced with telekinetic energy, then breaking apart, exploding from the inside. Teresa's eyes began to show no emotion and began to glow purple, just a slight indigo mixed with blue. That was all. "No…" she repeated. "How can I believe that… how can I believe that I am normal… when I can see spirits? Huh?! Tell me! How can I be normal!?!" she cried in despair, her voice roaring to the skies above.

She shut her eyes as she gripped her temples again, her body getting a major headache. "Tell me…!" he rasped out. When she reopened her eye, they were dark, neon purple, as if pure evil. Her hair began to defy the laws of gravity and float up in the air due to telekinesis. Everything around her began to get traced with purple and float up in the air. A large force field began to surround her and expand, slowly at first, but then wildly like back then when Jeremy was there to take it down. But now, Jeremy wasn't here, and there was no one who could save Minoa except herself.

"Shit!" Minoa cried out, creating one of the few times she cursed. Minoa made her own force field expansion around her. The two force fields fought each other with equal strength, not giving up. Her attack… it's as strong as mine, Minoa realized. But that's not supposed to happen. Minor's Powers are supposed to be one-one millionth (1/1,000,000) of the power of their original Free Spirit. Could it be… that they have the power to expand their limit? No way. That would mean that she's empowered her limit at least million-fold all ready. And that can't happen so fast. So what's really going on? Now, the only way to stop the force expansion of hers is…

Without finishing her thought, without closing her eyes, her stare began to glow wildly purple as well, the seal she put deep inside the corners of her mind cracking. No! Not good! Minoa thought as she felt her hold on the power release.

The two opposing forces continued to fight each other, trying to push each other back but failing. Bits and pieces of rocks and dust and branches began floating around them. I've got to…. Minoa thought in her mind. I've got to… before I lose control…!

Minoa's hair soon began to defy laws of gravity as well, and everything in the scene was outlined with purple. Even the purple outlines were outlined with purple. Slowly, inside Teresa's dome, a slab of rock began to lift with Minoa's telekinesis, and then swung wildly at the side of her head, knocking Teresa out, causing her attack to finish. She lay on her side now, her eyes closed and mind unconscious.

Minoa cancelled her attack off as well, sitting on the floor, trying to deal with the cracked seal in her head. Damn it, I have a headache. Not good… Minoa thought as she took deep breaths, in and out, in and out. At this rate, we can't continue on with the match, Minoa realized in her mind, her head feeling woozy, forcing her to close her right eye, her left eye squinting at Teresa to make sure she was unconscious. We can't have another outburst like that again...

PoVS

In the hot, half desert, half plains, the giant of a wolf growled loudly, its voice echoing off everything it could find, Kanadou, the creator of it right by it, ready to give command. "Deal is a deal, right, Mark?" Kanadou asked wistfully as the brown earth wolf growled hungrily.

Mark, who was still standing there, gulped another panicked knot down his throat. Damn… I'm in deep trouble now, he thought. "Fine then," Mark said, closing his eyes, getting rid of the fear. "Let's try this," he said, forcing his hands down on the ground. "Hell stabber!" he said as he leaned in towards the ground, putting more pressure on it through the palms of both his hands.

As a reaction, large spikes of rock and clay emerged from the ground, making it uneven, stabbing the whole area of where the wolf was. The spikes stabbed into its chest, its legs, and even its head, but in the end, all the wolf had to do was step on the pointy spikes and the attack would be over.

"Damn," Mark muttered under his breath. The wolf, angry and disturbed, leaped into the air and tried to land right into Mark. Mark, being cautious, jumped away from the attack as the wolf's shadow came in closer and finally crashing with a loud boom, blowing dust in every direction, Mark having to cover his eyes with his arm just so he wouldn't get anything in his eye. How do I do this? Mark thought in his mind. Then, all of a sudden, he remembered Kanadou's words.

_"There's nothing else to the Earth Element than imagination."_

Imagination, huh? Then let's start from scratch about what I can do with my element. Mark closed his eyes, pushing away all worries in his mind and developing a new, fresh idea he could call his own.

"What's the matter? Give up all ready? If you're going to be like that, you're not going to last five seconds when White Cloak comes after you to take your life," Kanadou provoked, disturbing Mark's thoughts.

"Shut up," was all Mark told him with his eyes still closed, his mind focusing. When Mark reopened his eyes, his glare shone with a sense of a brilliant idea that lay in his hands, ready to be used. He clasped his hands together and charged up his energy. Soon, brown glowing energy surrounded him, overtaking his whole body with constant release of earth control.

Looks like he finally understands, but it looks like it's going to be too late now, Kanadou thought. "Go, wolf!"

The wolf growled and roared in its throat, the echoing cry bouncing inside it. With a forceful leap, the gigantic wolf jumped up in the air, blocking the sunlight, the bright light framing its body. The animal made of earth cast its shadow upon Mark, who was still focusing and pouring more energy out that surrounded him.

Soon, dust began to surround Mark like a growing shield. The dust seemed to spin and churn, and then turned into a sort of tornado. It gathered dust along with it, and sand as well. The tornado grew and grew around him until Kanadou could no longer see him, and the hot, dry air swirled around it. It grew so big, that it towered into the air like the widest, tallest building ever known to man.

With its shadow painted on the swirling, thick, brown tornado, the wolf closed in on it, falling right into the tornado and seemed to fit perfectly in it. "That's not going to stop my attack!" Kanadou yelled, his voice swirling into the air, having to yell over the howling winds.

Inside the tornado, the demonic wolf roared and cried out, the cracks in its body covering it like a paint job or design. Earth spikes began to protrude from it that were made of clay, protruding out of the tornado's outside, stopping the swirling and rotation a little. The tornado, being to weak to stop the wolf, fell victim to its falling inertia as the wolf covered in completely, crashing into the floor as stones clattered upward, the sand and dust weak now and laying limp on the floor.

I guess he was better off dead, Kanadou thought as the howling winds stopped and his clothes fluttered back to a normal pace. The other Minors will be disappointed though, now that one of the Base Element Minors has been killed by its own Council Counterpart. "Let's go, wolf," Kanadou said as he turned around to face the direction of the Inner World's Center Building, otherwise known as the place where the Council and Jeremy lived. When Kanadou's "pet" didn't answer him or give any reply, Kanadou became worried and wondered what was wrong. He turned back around to find the earth wolf staying stationary, giving no reaction whatsoever and as if it was becoming weak in power. "What's going on? What's wrong?" Kanadou asked, his voice a little panicky and worried.

"It can't move," a familiar voice came into the picture.

"Wha- you!" Kanadou mumbled, surprised in a forced, choked voice as he looked to the side of the Wolf and found Mark, standing right next to it as if not worried that it was going to do anything at all to him. "You're still alive?"

"Yeah. I'm not stupid, you know," Mark told Kanadou, leaning on one of the wolf's legs, the giant monster still trembling as if it were scared, its face frozen in a narrowed stare, now weak and looking like it was about to hurl.

"What did you do to it?" Kanadou demanded, his face underneath the mask looking panicky.

"Take a closer look, and maybe you'll find out," Mark told him, pointing towards the spot underneath the wolf where it had landed. Kanadou followed Mark's direction and found a hole in the ground and sand spilled all over the place. There were also bits and pieces of gray stone that were formed into body parts. Kanadou could find an arm, a leg, and a head.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked as he continued to stare at the darkened objects, all shaded in tone thanks to the wolf's shadow. Then he took a look at the wolf, which was still trembling in pain. Then, Kanadou saw it. Coming from the cracks in the wolf's body, was sand. It spilled out in a rush, landing on the floor from the cracked openings of the earth-molded dog. "S-Sand?" Kanadou muttered out in disbelief, still a bit confused.

"Yeah. If you still can't figure it out, let me tell you," Mark said, deciding that for a council member, he was taking too long to comprehend even a simple trick. "The purpose of my sandstorm from before wasn't to take apart your wolf. It was to fill it up with sand through the cracks in its body. If I did that, I knew the sand would fill up its joints, and as a result, it will no longer be able to move. But even after that, I wasn't safe from its attack. So I used Lesson One. You remember it, don't you? You told it to me, anyway."

"W-What?" Kanadou replied, still pretty much shocked.

"You see those bits of rock over there?" Mark said, pointing to the bits of statue lying beneath the wolf. "While you couldn't see me because I was enveloped in the tornado, I punched a hole in the ground and got in it, then made a stone copy of myself to continue the rest. But even more important, now that I beat your attack, I guess that means I win, does it now?" Mark asked with much pride.

"Hmph. Fine…" Kanadou replied, trying to pretend that he didn't care. Kanadou began to walk back to the Inner World's Center Building as Mark cheered because of his victory, jumping up in the air like a wild rabbit.

PoVS

Jeremy was completely surrounded in darkness. He sat on his bed, his back against the wall with his body curled up into a ball. He looked at the gold, brazen locket and thought about what Tsukansu had told him that day.

_"It can do so much more than just track the whereabouts of Minors."_

I wonder what… His thought was interrupted. "Agh!" he cried out as he felt a sharp pain in his mind, the hurt overpowering. He dropped the locket onto the floor and it clattered on the plaster ground with a clink, Jeremy unsure of whether it was broken or not, the lid of the shield-like jewelry wide open.

Jeremy gripped his temples tightly, feeling a huge migraine come towards him, hearing something roar deep inside the depths of his emotions and his mind. What…What is that? He thought, his mind struggling to get any thoughts out. The migraine continued and the roars and fearful cries echoed continuously. This headache… it's so intense… it's not…normal…! Jeremy continued to struggle out his thoughts.

He fell over to his side, his forehead feeling hot and feverish. He cried out in despair and agony as the headache began to take over him and the deep echoes and roars took over his hearing. Then, it soon began to wear off and die out, as if it were nothing to a kindled flame. The migraine and mind pain died away and Jeremy's thoughts became clear again. The roaring deep in his mind killed itself, the overpowering screeches gone now.

Jeremy took deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling over and over again, and picked up the locket from the floor weakly. Thankfully it wasn't broken, but if the locket could really do anything, Jeremy hoped that it would tell him just what was going on with his body lately as he held it against his chest, trying to find some hope. What the hell? He thought. His breaths were getting heavier and heavier. He didn't know whether or not to be scared of himself or not now. Am I going crazy? Just…who am I?


	28. Chapter 28

I can see! I'm no longer in the darkness! I jumped from the cragged stone floor and onto the wall behind me, only to spring off the wall. In the now visible blackness of the cave I was stuck in with Hibiyomi, I sent a shadow arm at him, and missed, my claw crashing to the floor, spreading stones out with a clatter as I landed in the opposite direction from which I started.

The movements of Hibiyomi I couldn't see before, I can see them! I thought as Hibiyomi came at me with punches and kicks, my body dodging each and every one of them with confidence and skill. It's not just my eyes got adjusted to the darkness, I thought as I jumped a short distance in the air to dodge a sweep kick. As soon as I landed back on the floor, I gave him my own sweep kick, only to miss by Hibiyomi jumping away, creating more distance between us and an end to the hand to hand combat.

"Looks like you've learned how to use Sight," Hibiyomi said, his voice echoing off the cragged paved walls and stone coned ceiling of the dim, water dripping cave.

I shifted my weight and got into position for more hand to hand combat, my eyes hard on Hibiyomi and everything around him, my sight clear in the clouding blackness. My feet shuffled on the floor as the sound of water drops bulleting the ground filled my ears. My eyes glowed with a demonic red, my sight reversing all the colors, black being white and red being green, and vice versa. Everything also seemed to glow with a backlight, but I knew all of these things were just illusions of the new skill I had learned. The skill to be able to see in the dark.

"I guess that means we're almost done training," Hibiyomi's voice echoed through the uneven grounds again. The booming depth of the sound of his voice seemed to overtake the water dripping that seemed to continue anyway at a slow, steady pace, filling my ears anyway.

"Hm?" I muttered under my breath in interest, wondering why being able to see in the dark was my only training lesson, my position still readied to fight.

"Just one more thing you have to learn, though, and it won't be easy. I'm telling you, it's not simple at all," Hibiyomi's voice rang again.

"And what might that be?" I asked, narrowing my stare, watching Hibiyomi do the same.

He didn't seem to reply. Instead, he seemed to sink away into the floor and disappear completely, as if he had been standing on quicksand.

"What…? What happened?" I muttered, looking from side to side, the bright illusion-like colors not blinding to my eyes. I felt my breath begin to pick up, my own inhaling ringing in my ears repetitively, like some kind of drum beat to add to the suspense of the fight. "Where'd you go?" I asked him, if he was still there. Had he… left? No. No way could that happen. He said he had one more thing to teach me. But in that case, where is he?

"No," came a blunt answer from another direction. No way! I thought. Behind me!

My heartbeat increased ten times over in an instant. My eyes became wide with fear and surprise as I turned around slowly, as if time had put the scene on slow motion. "The last thing you're going to have to learn is…" the voice continued, definitely behind me now, my head still turning as if it took forever.

My heartbeat mixed with my sharp gasp and water dripping filled my hearing with an everlasting chorus. When I turned around I saw Hibiyomi staring at me, a little too close for comfort. He was staring at me with those narrow, almost inhuman eyes. "How to do this!" he screamed in my face, the voice booming loudly in my ear.

At the same time, he took me by my neck. His body seemed to be coming out from the wall like a fungus growing on it. He tried to drag me in, causing one eye to wince since dust particles were coming my way. In my eyes, his complete, white washed face and clothes dragged me toward the wall with great, inhuman strength.

Crap! I thought. I'm going to crash into the wall! My body came closer and closer and Hibiyomi's body sank in more and more, and just when I thought my body would completely collide with the cragged, uneven state of the supporting cave wall, my body actually, strangely, went through it, like I was some kind of ghost or spirit.

I felt Hibiyomi's hand's grip on me loosen and fade away as I fell on my back, causing my sight to be taken out as well. I was totally surrounded in darkness now, and the echoed dripping of water was completely gone, only I and darkness remained. Where the hell did I go? Was I really taken through the wall? Wandering thoughts of mine scattered throughout my consciousness as I got up on my feet and looked around, trying to figure out where I was or to find a wall for support.

I found no wall anywhere, not even from the direction I had come in, which I found rather strange. I tried to turned on my Sight again, but couldn't. I wondered what was wrong. It should work, and I should be able to see in the dark by now, but I can't. There's something seriously rigged, I thought. Sweat began to form on my forehead and I brushed back my straight, spiky black hair between my fingers.

"Where am I?" I asked if anyone was out there to hear me, my voice echoing through the empty pitch blackness. As a reply, I got a sudden punch to the right side of my face, knocking my head to the left.

I cried out in surprise, and turned to face the front, unable to sense a presence anywhere in front of me. Then I took another punch from the opposite side this time, knocking me back a little, and then a kick to my chin that sent me flying at least three feet away. "Hibiyomi?!" I cried out in desperateness. "Where are we?" I demanded confusedly, my body lying on the floor and struggling to get back up.

"Welcome to the Darkness," Hibiyomi's voice echoing and booming more than ever now in the spacious area with no solid objects, his sound seeming to come from every direction.

"The Darkness?" I asked, my voice booming back, but not as loud. "What's the Darkness?"

"Yes. It's the interface between Spiritual Hell and the Outer World. There's nothing here but evil spirits coming in and out, going back to the world and coming out from it," Hibiyomi's voice boomed again.

"Going back to the Outer World? Why would they do that?" I asked, trying to find any signs of where Hibiyomi's location was, but failing. I stood up on my feet, my eyes moving from one side to the other desperately.

"For one thing, to haunt others, and another thing, to replace a soul." I put on a crazy, worried look on my face, trying to figure out what he said. "In other words," he continued. "When someone dies, they are replaced with another, random soul from either heaven or hell, and that random soul becomes a newborn baby. Do you understand?"

When I didn't give a reply for some time, he began talking again. "It's only accessible to the Outer World by dying, or by the power of the Shadow Free Spirit. Meaning you and me. Whoever uses the skill to get in the Darkness, otherwise known as Shadow Travel, is the only one who can see in the Darkness. The victim who falls upon the skill cannot see a thing."

"So my job is?" I asked, wondering if he was watching me right now, now knowing why my Sight failed earlier.

"Your job is to find out how to use Shadow Travel and get out of the Darkness. Any other way will lead to your death. Understood?" he demanded in a lower, more ominous voice. "When you do learn how to use the skill, you'll be able to travel in and out from the Outer World and the Darkness, allowing you to reappear any location of choice in the Outer World in a ten foot diameter."

"Hmph. Looks like this isn't going to be easy at all," I told him. "Any hints?" I asked just in case.

"Just one," he told me. "All aboard."

"All aboard? What's that supposed to-," my sentence was cut off by another punch, this time to my stomach. I fell over on my back and winced. Damn. I guess he won't just give it to me. How am I supposed to get out of here now?

PoVS

Outside in the bright sunlight, the sun hung high in the sky, shining its bright light through the thickened clouds and onto the scene of Lance and Shihou's fight.

Shihou seemed tired, taking deep breaths, while her sword, Ubuge Kenshiki, meaning Soft Pride emitted blue sparks and smoked from the heat it had been through from using all those sword attacks. "This kid…" Shihou panted, her body weak.

"He's good isn't he?" a reflection of a small child with brown hair appeared on the sword, his high, young voice soothing to any soul. "He may be lazy, but when it comes down to it, he has great creativity in his attacks and won't hold back. What a kid."

Lance, hearing the compliments stood there, his body not tired to the smallest scale. He stood there, cross armed and smiled his lazy, crooked smile, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping, and his silver hair swaying in the soft wind that blew dust by like magical hands that drove everything along. Needles that were protruding from the ground used in earlier techniques were smoking steam into the air, sinking back underground. They hissed as they died into their graves below.

"Let's give it one more try," Shihou demanded. "Crescent Moon Blade!" she declared as she jumped into the air, the thin, three foot blade glowing with neon blue.

Lance, reacting to her attack early, bent down and pressed his hands against the dirt surface, palms down and creating more needles that grew like skyscrapers into the air, clawing and reaching out for Shihou's body.

Shihou, seeing right through his defense slashed her attack early, creating a crescent style blue wave, cutting the needles and giving her space for her feet to safely step on. As a counter, she turned around, the sunlight reflecting off of her blade. She spun and put her sword out, attempting a spinning sword attack.

Even before she began the counter, thin metal formed a dome like defense in front of Lance, who was only inches away from Shihou. The metal grew from the front and created a spherical defense as Shihou's counter was blocked completely. "Heh, not to mention a good eye for detail," Shihou added to the list.

"So you've figured out how I do it, huh?" Lance said behind his metal half dome. "Using photographic memory, everything I see is like a painting in my head. That way, I can read your movements before they happen using an eye for detail on that 'painting' by looking at and watching out for any shifts of energy, position, or stance. So as a result, it's hard for you to actually hit me since I can think of a defense just as fast as I can see your attack," he explained.

"Ha, you're good for only a seventeen year old kid. Looks like I can't really teach you much now, can I?" Shihou asked, drawing back in her sword.

"No, looks like you can't," Lance said as the metal shield shrunk back to nothing but air in front of Lance, letting go of the defense.

PoVS

Under the same holy circle of light we know as the sun, a scene in the deep forest took place and released wisps of black smoke and steam into the air. The surrounding trees were completely charred, including the dirt and grass. Hanabikai and Eric had been fighting too much with fire, but still weren't tired just yet.

At the scene, Hanabikai and Eric were panting, both of them equally tired and their clothes ashy and a bit burnt.

"I'm not giving up just yet. Fire Dragon!" Hanabikai declared, clasping his hands together, putting his fingers between his fingers. A circle of flames surrounded him and grew, and came out a dragon, made completely of fire, the orange and red flames flashing light on the surrounding blackened trees.

"Like I'm giving up either!" Eric shot back. Eric did a back flip, postponing the impact between him and the flaming myth sent at him. "Flaming Whip!" he declared as he landed back on his feet a few feet away from the fire dragon. With a snap of his fingers, there came a stream of red and orange flames that he could control like a real whip. Eric sent the whip to entangle itself around the dragon, and soon, the dragon was overpowered and exploded, crying out its deathly cries.

The fire whip free now, Eric slash-swung it towards Hanabikai, who was a bit surprised that his Fire Dragon had been beaten down. As a sign of confidence hinted with revenge, Hanabikai took the flaming whip in his hands, holding it right in its place.

Eric widened his eyes and grit his teeth in anger. He caught it? Eric thought. N-No way! "I know what you're thinking, but no," Hanabikai said, answering his thoughts. "I cannot hold fire, but instead, I can compress it in my fist, making it unable to move, so it actually looks like from the outside that I'm holding it."

"I never asked for an explanation," Eric said bluntly, tugging on his glowing, flaming whip. It wouldn't give.

"Okay then, hotshot. Let's see if you can dodge this!" Hanabikai declared, shifting his feet, separating his legs a little, that string of brown hair in front of him dipping down. "Phoenix Fire!" Hanabikai screamed. Through his scream, raging balls of fire came out like a hurricane, spreading everywhere and getting larger as it progressed. The hot fire shook the air violently with its heat, providing bright light that could beat the sun.

Eric, still holding the fire whip in his hands jumped away from the fire as it was only a few feet away, then jumped up and off a tree branch, flying into the air. The raging puffs of flame blew right past him, burning a whole mile's length and width worth of trees.

In the air, Eric was holding on to the whip in the rising smoke and steam from the fire below. With his free hand put out, he called, "Firelight!" A sphere of bright yellow with flaming lines on it grew and flew from his hand in a curve ball motion. The attack forced Hanabikai to let go of the whip and jump away. The firelight crashed and exploded into nothing but smoke.

Eric landed on his feet on the charred dirt, the whip still beside him and looking as long as ever, his stance landing with a grunt and his clothes, especially his bandanna caked with ash and dust. Once more, he cracked the whip and flung it towards Hanabikai.

Hanabikai being a few feet away sent one of his strongest attacks at him in defense and offense. "Lioness Inferno!" Hanabikai opened his mouth the widest he could, and in a flash, a filled web of orange fire spread out and covered everything in front of Hanabikai like a wall at first, but then curved its direction forward. It crashed through everything in its path in a flame tsunami, and ate away the whip.

Defenseless and now without offense, Eric widened his stare. I can't escape it! Shit! Eric thought. He turned his back to the fire and thought. Freeze and compress it! Just like Hanabikai had taught him. At the same time, the flames began to take over, and completely engulf Eric in the hot, death piercing cries of the bright sprites of everlasting inferno.


	29. Chapter 29

The flames continued to crack and roar and blast sparks into the air even after Hanabikai had cancelled the attack. Everything was in drifting flames. The fire popped wildly, pooling the sky with wisps of black smoke.

I wonder… Hanabikai pondered in his thoughts, staring carefully into the red and yellow flames that cackled loudly, the bright light spilling to the bodies of trees and Hanabikai's face all around. Did he make it?

In the flaming depth, an eighteen year old boy was bending down on one knee, his back turned to the direction of where the fire came from, his chest heavily breathing and back and skin charred and burnt. That didn't turn out as well as I thought it would, he thought, taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out. Eric coughed out smoke as he resumed his heavy breathing, his heartbeat calming. The heat around him dissolved with hisses reluctantly.

"Looks like you beat it," Hanabikai announced, a bit proud, his powerful, confident brown eyes staring into the slow-dying fire.

"Compress and hold, right?" Eric stated, flashing a friendly smile as he continued to take deep breaths, his chest expanding and deflating over and over again in a continuous pattern.

Looks like he did learn in time after all and he learned it pretty quickly if I do say so myself. Look at him. He escaped one of my strongest attacks with only a burnt back and arms. This guy has some endurance and power if he could do that. He was actually beating me for a second there. "That's enough, let's get back," Hanabikai declared, turning his back on the flames and walking into the green, unharmed forest.

"Really?" Eric asked, standing back on his feet, his breaths small and steady now, his eyes shining with disbelief.

"Yeah, really," Hanabikai assured, turning his head back so Eric could see one side of his face, then turned back around to walk.

PoVS

As the wind began to pick up in the grassy plains and dirt roads, Shintenmaru panted slightly, almost losing his breath. He came into sight from a large area of flying dust on a patch of rock he had brought to life using the Life Element. This guy's good…for a beginner, he thought, pushing up his glasses to straighten them out, kneeling on one knee as the platform taken from the ground lifted him in the air higher at a slow, steady pace. Time to show him one of my moves then, Shintenmaru declared in the depth of his private thoughts.

He opened his mouth, and let a huge, snaking dragon made completely out of his own life energy come out. The dragon was brightly lit with a shade of white, outlined with a sort of holy yellow, the piercing eyes of it godly gold.

The dragon had two stick like arms that came from its sides and growled hungrily, as if ready for lunch. It linked to the inside of Shintenmaru's mouth and the depths of his soul, ready to return whenever in danger. "Go," Shintenmaru mumbled without closing his teeth, his voice coming out blunt.

The dragon followed directions obediently and crashed into the area of rising dust and smoke. It crashed into the ground and clattered stones everywhere, creating more implosion of dust everywhere.

"You're not the only one who can use dragons," Daniel, the Life Minor's voice rang in from a different direction.

Surprised, Shintenmaru looked up to find the read headed Minor standing on a thin tree branch among the dirty smoke. He had red hair styled to a down spiky version at the front, and rectangular glasses that glowed in the sunlight. Even with the similarities of his to mine, he'll never compare to my power, Shintenmaru thought, drawing back the dragon from the smoke as it began to clear.

"What're you talking about boy?" Shintenmaru mumbled out in the same blunt voice, as if he were a mentally challenged person speaking.

"This," Daniel said not as bluntly, placing what seemed to be one of his many cards that he carried around onto the body of the tree next to him. It glowed with bright white light, and tremendous energy poured from it. As the card continued to illuminate strongly, Daniel called out, "Japanese Devil Serpent!"

On cue, a long, purple snake-like serpent flew out of the card as if it were a portal from another world. It had narrow, darkness piercing eyes with a rigid snake skin and had short, stick like arms at its side too, just like Shintenmaru's Soul Dragon. It had deviant, dark purple wings and wore a small black cloak with the Japanese letter for "Death" inscribed in a circle on the back of it. It hissed wildly, as if threatening the Soul Dragon, its eyes pinning right through it, intimidating anyone with its petrifying stare.

By now, the smoke had cleared away, and both snaking animals traded hard stares. The serpent was the one to strike first, forcing the soul dragon to follow. Their bodies intertwined in a prison of hate, neither of them giving up one bit of mercy.

The dragon tried hard to win, but in the end the serpent's devilled strength shattered it into specks of light, the serpent's body now limp with nothing to lock onto.

"That's not going to stop my dragon," Shintenmaru declared, his voice still blunt. As proof to his words, the specks of white and yellow light grouped together again and formed the original dragon, ready to fight again any moment.

Then, Shintenmaru swallowed back the dragon, believing that he no longer needed it. The dragon waved like a whip as it followed direction, and sunk back into the Life Council's stomach. Afterwards, Shintenmaru gave a readied stare at the purple serpent threatening him, hissing and screeching at him in agony of the guilty.

"Go ahead," Daniel informed the serpent, knowing what it intended to do. The serpent hissed in reply and charged right after Shintenmaru, missing as he spun away on his patch of rock.

The snaking body of the Devil's Serpent passed by Shintenmaru, and began to circle him, trying to trap Shintenmaru in a lock of purple. Shintenmaru, not attempting to give up easily, placed his hand on the serpent's body as it continued to snake around like a chain.

As precious seconds passed by, the purple skin of the serpent began to thicken and harden, the evil purple turning into a statue's gray. "What?" Daniel cried out in disbelief. No way… what is he doing to it? Daniel thought.

As Daniel cried out more wondering thoughts in his private space he calls his mind, the purple snake-like reptile froze completely, its skin turning into nothing but cold gray and rocky stone. Now, the snake was a lifeless statue, remaining stationary, unable to move.

"You're going to have to try better than that," Shintenmaru declared, picking his hand up from the stone monument of what used to be an attempt of murder.

"Who said I was done?" Daniel shot back, at the same time Shintenmaru noticing something glowing brightly near him.

"What?" Shintenmaru cried out as he noticed the card on the back of the serpent, shining brightly in its glory, Shintenmaru realizing what it was for. Shit! Shintenmaru thought as his eyes widened in shock.

A nanosecond after Shintenmaru's thought, the card exploded, blowing up everything around it, the serpent statue, and the Life Council.

A cloud of dust formed around the scene as Daniel watched, still standing on that thin, supporting branch through his rectangular glasses. The clattering of stone echoed off the trees and pieces of it began falling from the cloud of dust and destruction. They clattered on the hard, dirt ground, different parts of the snake's body including its head.

Shintenmaru finally came into view after a matter of seconds on a new patch of rock, his body unsteady on the thing. "I'll give you one thing," Shintenmaru said as he floated away from the attack and farther away from Daniel. The Life Minor said nothing and just continued to stare at Shintenmaru. "It's a good idea to use cards and bring them to life using your element. But you've got to learn to be able to fight with out your cards as well."

Daniel took his words into consideration for a moment's notice, and then stared back, his lips not moving at all, as if they were frozen.

"Still wondering how I turned your serpent into stone, huh? Maybe if you experience it, you'll have a better idea of what it is," Shintenmaru said, his face showing a slight chuckle as he lifted his glasses again, the bright sunlight reflecting off the rectangular spectacles.

"What…?" Daniel muttered confusedly and a little angrily. He held onto the bark of the thick tree just in case and stared harder at Shintenmaru.

"Soul Cannon!" Shintenmaru declared as he sat in a frog position on the patch of rock. In seconds, a giant sphere of white light tinted with golden yellow seemed to pull out from Shintenmaru's back, and then zoom past him and towards Daniel at an amazing speed.

I can't dodge it! Daniel thought, backing away the only distance he could. The light of the attack spilled all over his face and soon, he was overtaken by the attacking sphere. Being that the tree he was standing on was one of the few in the grassy plains, the attack knocked Daniel down to the soft grass, making him land on his back and dust cover his clothes.

Daniel coughed as dirt began to pool around him, the hot sun above blazing upon his face. In a flash, Shintenmaru appeared right on top of Daniel, leaning over him, taking him by his neck, staring hard into his eyes with a cold, deathly stare.

He soon began to choke him, the grip on Daniel's neck becoming tighter and tighter, Daniel suddenly feeling weak and helpless, unable to move his arms. His neck began to feel like it was being solidified, and was becoming numb. The color of grayness pooled around Shintenmaru's fingers' places on his neck, the depressing gray soon taking over.

Daniel's breathing soon became short and weary, his body feeling as if it were hard to breathe at all. Daniel winced and stared up to Shintenmaru with one eye, who only had an expressionless look painted on his face. Crap… how can I get this guy off of me? Daniel thought as he felt his breath grow shorter and shorter by the second.

PoVS

Deep in the forest, Dylan, otherwise known as the Botanical Minor, dodged a ball of light and jumped to a tree branch. As he sensed another one come at him, he jumped to midair, right above the tree.

"Got you!" the sound of Kakori, the Botany Council cried out. Dylan looked up and found another sphere of illumination coming at him, and being unable to move in midair, the attack surely knocked him down, pummeling him into the ground.

The attack was a direct hit and got Dylan's breath heavy and tired. He got up, not giving up, staring hard at Kakori's place way above. Kakori was nestled on this huge, gigantic rose that stretched all the way before the clouds in the sky, so close it looked like he could touch the sun. The thick, long stem he was being supported with was almost indestructible, and Kakori looked down on the poor, tired Minor from his place on one of the many petals on the rose. His tied back, only a little longer than usual hair was as dark and envy green as ever. His eyes were pale and empty, while Dylan's were green and lively.

"What's the matter? Why do you seem like you're holding back?" Kakori interrogated from above, his voice echoing downward.

"It just doesn't seem right to hurt a Council Member," Dylan lied through open lips, his breath heavy and his skin tired and marked.

"Heh," Kakori scoffed. "If you're going to think like that, you know you're going to die, right?" Kakori's voice boomed. On cue, thick, raging vines came out in a flood at once, surfacing from the rich ground below. They came at Dylan like a crashing tsunami, and totally enveloped him in the attack. The thorny spines of the vines was sure to make deep cuts into his skin.

To Dylan, the spikes stung like poison on his skin, trapping him in a dark cage of despair, his body being sandwiched between the dirty, unclean ground and a layer of thick, branching, thorny vines.

Was this guy even worth picking for the botany half spirit? Kakori thought as his head was supported with his right hand. His eyes were a bit disappointed to see the low rate of the Minor. An old tree branch's stick lied between his lips, hanging low in boredom.

"Don't underestimate me!" Dylan's voice roared from below, his booming voice crashing against everything it could find. On cue, a huge blast of light ripped open a gigantic hole in the sea of vines, providing space for Dylan to stand. After the huge wave of light that blasted so high, it even went up to Kakori's height in the air, Dylan was standing there in the open space, his breath heavy and tired, his skin worn out and beaten, his back slouched from tiredness.

Well, I'll give him this, he's got spunk, Kakori thought in his mind as he stared down, almost interested. He sighed, not letting the branch in his mouth fall and closed his eyes. Will this ever get more exciting? The one time I'm outside in so long and this guy has to make it not worth my while. Kakori thought. His eyes remind me of mine, he realized. If so, then he can probably win.

Below, Dylan looked up, staring hard at the stalk of a flower, his arm wounds spilling blood down his limbs, his skin worn out. "Hey," Kakori challenged. "Let's see how much stamina you have left in you. Needle Vine!" Kakori's voice boomed. Right after his statement, a needle-like vine raced from the floor and stabbed Dylan right through the heart. The sudden attack caused his eyes to widen ten times over and cough out blood and wince.

Looks like the amount wasn't high at all, Kakori realized, becoming even more bored. He sighed again. Will I ever find something more fun than this boring job? He thought as he looked at the sun, having a plan for Dylan all set but deciding that he never had to use it at this point. "Hm?" he mumbled under his breath as he looked down to find something surprising.

The green vine that struck through his heart remained, but the color had drained from Dylan's face and skin, and it was nothing but a wooden sculpture of the real Minor. "A wooden copy?" Kakori noticed. "Maybe there's some hope for him after all," he mumbled.

The wooden copy fell over, splitting in half as the real Dylan was nowhere to be found.

Away from the scene and the sea of vines that still remained limp on the floor, Dylan sat, his back against the back of a tree, cooling shade resting upon him, trying to calm him. His heavy breathing echoed off the surrounding trees, and he had to figure out a plan – and fast.

To cure his tiredness, he brought up a plant from the floor that had a short stem and held a big leaf containing health water in it. Dylan broke off the leaf and drank from it. He threw the leaf onto the grassy ground beside him and stared back, trying to see what Kakori was doing. His heavy breathing had not been cured, but he wouldn't give up just yet. He was only inches away from a brilliant plan. Hopefully. I don't have much time, he realized. I need to think of something. And fast.

I looked up as I tried to ponder in my thoughts, and found the sun directly overhead, blasting at full power on my face, almost blinding to my eyes. Wait… the sun! The sun! Dylan realized, looking up in realization. It's not in the right place! And its way too intense than before. Only a half hour ago was it just rising, but now it's overhead? I haven't moved towards it. Not enough time has passed for it to move such a distance in the sky. Could it be…? Let's hope so. Aside from that, I don't have much power left. For now, I'll have to rely on this.

Dylan took a deep breath and waited. Then, he spit out a seed from his throat, the wet, sticky, bead-like seed glimmering in the faint yet wide sunlight. Then, he threw it towards Kakori's direction, the seed right away exploding after it made impact with solid ground. It exploded with fire, burning away vines and catching Kakori's attention.

Is he stupid? Kakori thought. Does he want me to catch him? The smoke from the explosion soon cleared after lighting the ocean of vines up in flames. Really, this kid…

When the smoke disappeared and died out, a large, whipping, Venus fly-trap looking plant raised high in the sky, almost as tall as Kakori's rose. "Eh? That's a new one," Kakori stared at the plant bluntly, just a bit excited. In any case, it's too easy. The plant came with an open mouth, wilted pieces of plant stem for teeth, revealing a large, hungry tongue underneath.

Kakori put out his hand, and called out, "Light Scatter," in the most bored way imaginable. Light flusters into the fist that was put out, and seemed to charge up as a sphere. Shining specks of multi colored light poured from the light sphere and began to fill the surrounding area around the plant. The light specks became stronger and stronger until the plan falls to the floor, weak and limp, it saliva pooling around its head like a puddle.

He gave the plan a seizure… Dylan realized in awe, his heavy panting picking up, now standing in clear sight, coming into view as soon as the dust around the plant cleared from its collision. I have one more shot at this left.

"There you are," Kakori yelled out, noticing Dylan standing right there, not even trying to hide his presence anymore. "I was beginning to wonder where you were," he said through boredom.

Dylan didn't reply to his echoing comments from sky high and took in a deep breath, stopping his continuous inhaling and exhaling. His deep breath filled his stomach, and caused his chest to rise three times over. "Stun Pollen!" Dylan cried out as he let out his breath in a stream, a golden orange cloud being released except carbon dioxide. The gas filled the whole air and glittered in the overly bright sunlight. It rose up towards the sky, clawing at Kakori.

"Nice try, but it's not going to work," Kakori told him. He closed his mouth and let a wooden mask that covered his mouth form out of nowhere, sticking to his skin like a suction cup, also covering partially his nose. The stun pollen rose up in the air and laid no effect on Kakori, just like he promised. "Time to end this fight," Kakori said through a muffled voice from beneath the wooden gas mask, Dylan barely able to hear him. Although, I do have to give him his props, Kakori thought, his inner voice echoing off the walls of his mind. He's so new to the Half Spirits thing, and he can all ready use spore breathing attacks, plant summoning moves, and regular vine and light shifting. It's something to remember, but it's too late now.

Kakori motioned for something to happen, and just like his motions promised, the "sun" from above seemed to grow bigger and bigger. In the enormous cloud of golden orange and sprinkling pollen, unharmed Dylan looked up to find the sun expanding.

It's not getting bigger! Dylan realized, staring hard at it. It's coming downwards! It was coming straight at him, and Dylan made no motion to move. Even if he wanted to, the attack range was just too large to escape. The best he could do was leave the scene half-fried. But it was all in his favor. And Dylan smirked as he prepared for the "sun's" impact on him.


	30. Chapter 30

"Falling Star!" Kakori declared the attack's name from his place on the gigantic rose, sitting on one of the many leaves that surrounded the red petals.

Dylan looked up as the incoming sphere dived towards him, the bright light consuming him, turning the whole scene illuminated with yellow. It seemed to expand in the sky as it fell deeper and deeper, eating away the azure sky above, as if ruling the world. Here it comes, Dylan thought as he pulled his arm back, rolling up his green sweater sleeves.

His bleeding forearm was cooled by the outside air as it was thrust outward, reaching for the falling star. He let out a self-assured cry as the ball of light came down on him, eating away at his body, crashing into the ground. The impact it made on the ground gave the earth a little shake, and lit up the whole entire forest with its beaming light. It seemed so peaceful, so holy, unlike anything that just crushed a sixteen year old boy under its large, domed body.

I guess there was no way for him to beat White Cloak anyway, Kakori thought as he looked down on the distant spherical wonder. His body is probably crushed and toasted by now. Kakori sighed and looked up at the real sun, the one he had spent so much time concealing. It shone back at him with guilt that ate away at his insides. It's too bad though… Kakori admitted. I guess I should get back now.

The rose began to shrink in height and width, returning to a normal, life-sized rose. It's petals twisted and its leaves rustled as they minimized, sinking back down into the floor, Kakori jumping off when it got to small and landing on his feet beside it, his body now larger in comparison. Kakori played with the branch stick that laid between his lips, moving it up and down, up and down. The light dome in front of him painted his expression bright and yellow, almost blinding. Surrounded by the torn and tired forest, he stared at the grave of someone who could've been something. The neon, one-man cemetery seemed nothing like anyone would imagine it to be.

Then, unexpectedly, the ball shifted. Hm? Kakori thought, paying closer attention. A second later, it shifted even more than last, shaking on its position, its stance seeming unsteady. It shook a little more, as if someone were playing a puppet show with it. It began to rise slowly, elevating to the smallest scale, bit by bit until it revealed the unharmed sixteen year old underneath, lifting the ball up with one hand.

Dylan let out a battle cry as he swung the giant orb of illumination forward, the attack backfiring on Kakori.

"N-No way!" Kakori let out a horrid gasp, opening his mouth wide in disbelief, the stick falling out of his lips' grasp and clattering to the floor as the bright light came closer. Kakori was too shocked to dodge, and was absorbed into the light, his body no longer visible.

Away from the new carrier of the light globe burden, Dylan watched as the ground exploded beneath it with a clatter, hauling dust into the surrounding area. Dylan panted out his heavy breaths, trying to regain air again. Dust crept closer to him from the implosion, the light attack completely gone, leaving nothing left but a white haired sixteen year old boy and a council member lost in the haze of dust. He stared into the smoke, his eyes piercing, his white hair ruffled and orange headband caked with dirt.

In the clearing, puffing smoke, Kakori struggled to stand up, his legs shaking, dirt embedded into various parts of his green council robes. How did he…? Kakori thought, still struggling. Amazing… his incomplete thought spoke out. Kakori smiled as he got back on his feet, trying to keep his stance straight up. He found Dylan just a few feet away from him, panting and breathing just as Kakori had begun to do. That backfiring attack knocked a lot out of me.

Kakori began to walk through the drifting smoke, his feet heavy like cinderblocks. He kept his nodding stare at Dylan as he continued to pace forward, Dylan panting heavily, not knowing if he was ready to fight any longer.

Kakori stopped and bent over to pick up his tree stick and replaced it in his mouth, not caring if it was completely infested with dirt. This guy has enough potential to take an attack that's over a million times more powerful than him even when he had no more energy and be able to manipulate it in another direction. Amazing, he repeated in his mind.

Dylan continued panting and gave a mean, half ready stare, his expression tired and structure worn out. Kakori smiled. "Let's get back," Kakori said, slowly recovering from the damage. I think he's had enough for today, he thought.

Dylan sighed heavily in reply. He didn't need to worry though. The tree and dust surrounding him, imprisoning him would all soon go away once he left.

PoVS

Daniel's eye continued to stay closed in endurance, his breath a thousandth of what it used to be, a whisper. The prickly, surrounding dead grass blades trickled on the back of his neck. Shintenmaru's eyes were glowing brightly as he continued turning him into stone, the discoloration beginning to take over Daniel like a mask, covering half his face all ready, all of his neck and the beginning of his chest. The stone crept near his eye, which was beginning to shine in the sun's light, seeming to water.

"Come on," Shintenmaru implored. "You don't want to die, do you? "

Daniel let out a weak, resistant cry as we gripped Shintenmaru's wrist with his weakening, heavy hand. The grayness began to creep up his wrist from beneath his sleeves as well. It wouldn't be long until he stopped breathing completely.

His hold did nothing, and soon his hand froze in place, his fingers becoming paler and paler by the second. Daniel soon stopped breathing and his glassy eyes froze in a state of horror, his expression constricted in the act of being reluctant.

"Hmph," Shintenmaru got up on his feet and walking away, displeased. He turned his back to Daniel as he cancelled the process. The grayness began to shrink back, the heavy stone mask dissolving like salt in water. His body turned to a small tan again and the process of breathing soon became available. Daniel stirred with a cough, the color returning back to his eyes.

He struggled to stand up on his feet, his legs still heavy. "You…shouldn't have stopped…when you had the chance…!" he rasped out in his slowly returning voice. "Soul Rain…!" he choked out, a few balls of glowing spiritual energy pulling out of his back and zooming towards Shintenmaru.

In a blink of an eye, Shintenmaru disappeared from sight, dodging the attack, his figure seeming to disappear in different directions with the wind. The attack missed, crashing into the floor and ripping a hole into the ground, creating small puffs of dust that swam in the air.

Daniel continued to gasp rapidly and falls on to the floor, sitting up. He clutched this throat, which still felt a bit stony, like it was clogged. In another blink of an eye, Shintenmaru reappeared, standing right in front of Daniel, casting his long, ominous shadow upon him.

"You're too late to use that. If I really were your opponent, you would be dead right now. Don't you get that? Are you not Takiato Daniel with IQ 189?" Shintenmaru gave, a bit of pep talk-like for his own good.

Daniel coughed in reply, taking his words into consideration. "Show it! If you were anything like I was when I was your age, you would most likely feel scared at the presence of danger. Well, here's something I didn't realize that you can," Shintenmaru said in a calming voice, his presence dark from the shade.

"What might that be?" Daniel said halfheartedly, still coughing to clear his throat.

"Listen closely and remember these words," Shintenmaru informed, leaning down to Daniel's place on the floor. "Courage…isn't because you have no fears. Courage is because you think something is more prioritized ahead of it, and realize it."

Daniel's panting soon stopped, calming down finally. He's right. I am always scared at the sight of danger. That's the only reason I'm resisting to use my real energy and choose to summon pictures from cards instead. Well then, I say this time, I show that Takiato Daniel… he thought as he stood up slowly, his feet more steady and fixed. He looked up to find Shintenmaru still bending down. That Takiato Daniel isn't a coward! He stated finally in his mind, leaning his look downward, his face being warmed by the sun's heating touch.

"Looks like you're starting to come to your senses. Are you ready to fight now?" Shintenmaru asked, standing back up on his feet to look at Daniel face to face, an assuring smile on his face that made Daniel feel more comfortable inside.

"Not entirely, but enough to hopefully beat you!" Daniel declared in a rising voice, putting his body in a readied position, as if preparing for hand to hand combat.

"That's not what I want to hear," Shintenmaru said, raising a finger to push up his glasses so they wouldn't fall off.

"Huh?" Daniel said, a bit wide-eyed and a little confused, still in his prepared position to fight.

"Don't hope," he warned. "know."

"Heh," Daniel smirked, charging up energy to resume the long awaited fight. The sunlight continued to pour even more now, and the wind picked up to a steadier rate, caressing the blood red hair of Shintenmaru, and the scarlet of Daniel.

"Soul Dragon!" Shintenmaru declared, starting the battle. Shintenmaru held his head back and thrust it forward, releasing the same dragon as before, the dragon attaching to the inside of his mouth, always a part of him no matter what. It swam in the air. The dragon zoomed out of his mouth in a twister, turning its body like a hula hoop, a sudden blast of energy from only a few feet away.

Daniel, not reacting at all with his stare on the floor moved to the side and let the dragon rush past him, wind fluttering by along with it that shook his clothes violently . The dragon crashed into the ground behind Daniel and put a hole into it, its head now hidden in a cloud of concealment.

Daniel picked his glasses up to straighten them out, and looked straight forward to find Shintenmaru with his mouth wide open. The dragon's body seemed to shiver and shake, and Daniel sensed it move out of the cloud.

The dragon came into sight from above the cloud, and turned to dive towards Daniel, who didn't care to turn around. I can't spend all my time hiding, Daniel thought. He closed his eyes as he continued to think. No matter how much I'm going to be scared and how much I try to hide it, it'll always be there, but sometimes… pretending to be something you're not is the first step to becoming that very same thing, Daniel realized in his pool of thoughts, grabbing the Dragon by its neck as it was just inches away from his head.

The Dragon was taken by surprise and roared in agony as Daniel's grip on it didn't seem to give. He squeezed tighter and tighter, and along with it, the Dragon seemed to shrink in size, downsizing thinner and thinner by the second.

"What?" Shintenmaru mumbled, grinning a little too evilly for a Council member.

The dragon roared angrily, resisting death. But its fate was all ready chosen; it was inevitable at this point. Daniel gripped its neck tighter. He revealed an unthawing look on his face as he reopened his eyes. Finally, the dragon was completely taken in by his hand, shrinking into nothing but cool air, all the life energy now inside Daniel's body.

Shintenmaru stumbled on his feet. He suddenly felt weaker. I don't think I should fool around with this kid anymore, he thought as he was welcome to close his mouth now, the dragon no longer his companion. This time, I really won't hold back. He rolled up his robe sleeves and prepared himself, turning on his analyzing mind. If he's also anything like me, then he would also have a great mind for analyzing things, which could lead to his win in this fight. And I don't feel like losing in my first fight in five hundred or so years. So this time, I'll hit him with all I've got. This time, I'll show what having a Free Spirit's power is all about, he thought finally as he shifted his feet, widening his stance, pouring all the orange energy into his fist.

PoVS

Derek ran through the darkness, the heavy ebony surrounding his every move, his feet pouncing on the floor just as heavily. I have to make sure he can't catch up with me, he thought as he zoomed past the darkness, not seeing where he was going at all, nothing except nothing surrounding him, not even one single sound other than his own and Hibiyomi's constant following voice.

"Trying to run away?" Hibiyomi's booming voice came again, Derek feeling something tripping him. Derek fell flat on the floor, his body feeling tired from running who knows how long. He got back up on his feet with the help of his hands on the cold, darkness enveloped floor. "You can't run away because I can always catch up with you in a second, you do know that, do you not?" Hibiyomi's creepy, raspy voice seeming to be closer more than ever.

Derek continued to run anyway, sweat covering his entire body, his chest still not completely healed from the Jagrock incident. His chest seared with pain as he ran, swinging his arms in a hurry, and running to nowhere. No matter where I run, it always seems like I'm going to the same place. Suddenly, he heard train tracks, a loud zooming if you will. Train tracks…? From where? He looked around, still not able to see anything. The sound came closer and closer and seemed to creep from all around. Then, he realized it. Above!

Derek jumped away and heard the zooming sound of a train against its rails rush past in front of him, going downward. A train going downward… is that possible? Just what is a train doing here?

"Spirits ride in that train, I told you, they go in and out," Hibiyomi replied, his voice reappearing, so close it was like he was speaking right in Derek's own private thoughts.

I wonder if he can figure it out now… Hibiyomi thought as he narrowed his stare, watching Derek, being the only person who could see in this situation.

Derek looked around frantically. His eyes were widened in a state of fear and meticulousness. His eyes wandered from side to side, his forehead leaking with sweat. More train came from different directions, zooming like a bullet diagonally and straight, causing a sort of chain cage around Derek, the seventeen year old boy somehow able to dodge all of them, jumping in different direction all the time.

They seem to be coming from either up or down… meaning hell is up… heaven is down. If they keep coming at this pace, then I'm going to run out of energy soon, and being unable to see anything in the Darkness means I can't dodge these things forever, Derek thought, trying to figure out a way out of his current situation, dodging another train that came upward just barely.

Heavy breathing soon took over his hearing and the cold darkness seemed to freeze the sweat that poured out of him. The roaring of train tracks and the echoing, rising and falling zooming seemed to stop for a moment, and Derek waited.

_"All aboard,"_ Hibiyomi had told him as a hint. All aboard… Derek repeated in his mind. Does that mean climb on the train? No, that would be too obvious. Only a fool would think of that. So what? There has to be a catch, and if I don't find out what it is soon, I really just might die here.


	31. Chapter 31

Derek stood in a prison of zooming trains, standing on his little circle of space provided to him. I can't move… if I do I'll get crushed by these trains… I need a way out. He looked around and so no difference in what he usually saw, nothing but blackness and empty space just waiting, beckoning to be filled in. All right, this can't be healthy for the balance of life, but… Derek put in all the energy he needed for his technique.

He stored it in his body, his arms, his legs, even his neck. Time to get these damn trains out of here! Derek released it all, crying out as he did to the blackness without horizon, amazing shadows wrapping around him in a dome, creating a sight for him no different than what he saw when he entered the dark realm of evil spirits. The shadow dome pushed away the zooming trains, kicking them away in different directions with force full of hate, and inside the dome, Derek heard and remained silent.

He sighed and muttered under his breath. His breathing echoed back to him in the hollow hemisphere. I need a way to get out of here. If I don't… I'll go crazy in this place. His legs felt tired from running and he wished he could just feel something, see something, do anything human again and just lay down, but he couldn't. His desires would not be granted to him until he had completed this challenge.

"You thought you could hide?" Hibiyomi's voice appeared behind him, the sound bouncing off the circular, caped walls. Derek widened his eyes in surprise. No way! He found me even in here? He turned around and sensed a presence. This isn't good! "You're not getting away this time," Hibiyomi whispered so close to him.

Just as Derek was about to run off, Hibiyomi grabbed him by the stomach and held him close, the Council directly behind him. He caused both of them to fall backward, falling through the floor and entering a new realm. Derek hoped it would be earth, but he found something so much worse than being in the Darkness.

As soon as they exited, the two people found themselves midair in this thick, hot , surrounding area with a wide lava stream below, the bubbling red liquid glowing with demonic presence, the cragged stone reflecting the evil light it shone. The screams of despaired spirits filled the underworld hell, the agonized cries for help intertwined together and echoed through the evil black walls.

Derek was still held in Hibiyomi's tight grasp, and felt himself begin to fall headfirst into the lava, his expression locked in a state of fear. The bubbling river seemed to creep closer and closer, the underground red hell ready to take any spirit that came in its way. The hot air thickened around Hibiyomi and Derek as they sped down, and crashed into the lava.

Derek closed his eyes at the last moment, trying to delete it all away, trying to somehow get rid of it all. He shut his eyes tightly, preparing for the hot lava to melt away his skin, to eat at his soul, and waited. Suddenly, he felt the fuming, hot air disappear and the deviant bubbling of the scorching, red hot lava leave the scene. He heard no more evil, demonic spirits screaming in anguish and suffering.

He reopened his eyes, hoping he would find the real world around him, but again his anticipations failed him. He opened his eyes wide to find nothing but darkness again surrounding him, the feeling of Hibiyomi's tight grip of an arm still with him, surrounding him. He felt like they were in midair, even thought they could not see anything, even though they had returned to the Darkness, the realm where dark souls traveled on their way to earth or hell. The panic calmed but still continued to rush in his blood, the scared, tight knot in his chest resisting to be swallowed. For some reason, he was happy that they were back in the Darkness.

Wait a minute… he thought as he continued to get the feeling of floating downward. We…we came from the ceiling? There's a ceiling?! He asked himself wildly his face structure going wacky with twitching eyebrows and giant, dilated eyes that stretched out like an alien. Enough, he thought, shaking out of his current surprised condition. Time to get back to the real world, he said, resuming his hopes.

Derek put out his arm, as if trying to hold on to something above that he couldn't reach. His arm immediately was mended into a shadow limb, a sort of claw if you will. The shadow arm rushed past, and kept going until Derek felt something solid. Got it! Derek thought with confidence. This time, I'm getting out of here! He pulled himself out of Hibiyomi's hold and clung tightly to the solid object he felt.

He zoomed upward, and soon found himself back in the real world, in the cave where the battle had begun. The darkness was familiar, but the feeling of cold, wrapping air and the sound of dripping water calmed him and made him glad, his body finally able to experience these things again. He activated his Sight technique, and allowed him to see in the dark with reverse colors, his eyes demonic neon red.

Derek waited in the reverse colored world, waiting for Hibiyomi to come back up. Soon, his expectations came true and Hibiyomi rose from the cave floors in front of Derek, who sat up, just waiting comfortable in the unstable, dark cave. Through Derek's eyes, Hibiyomi came up with whiteness spilled all over him, his pupils almost completely engulfed in whiteness, hints of gray still remaining. They interlocked icy, mysterious stares.

"That took too long," was all he said. "You need to get better somewhere along the line." Hibiyomi looked down on him, literally and figuratively speaking. His pale, piercing eyes struck through Derek's like a sword versus a muffin.

Derek looked down, giving up the shady staring contest. He said nothing, and just sighed, backing up against the wall.

PoVS

"See? Kakori is strong isn't he?" Jeremy made conversation as he patched up the wounds on Dylan. He had taken care of most of the other Minor's wounds and the Council members were chatting about something Jeremy couldn't hear since they were in their little corner in the room.

"Yeah, next time I need to be more careful," Dylan answered back as Jeremy put alcohol on a small square cloth and dabbed a wound with it, then placed a band-aid on it.

"Well, you'll grow pretty strong, I know it," Jeremy said, putting away the supplies except the bandages back into the case that he seemed to carry everywhere ever since Shihou gave it to him. He placed the items in with care, the large room brightly lit with ceiling lights, which was surprising to see.

"Ha, really?" Dylan asked as he stood up from his place on the chair, exercising his arms to see if they were okay to use.

Meanwhile in the corner as Jeremy and Dylan caught up, the Council members sat at a small table in the corner of the room that was facing the door that led outside. A few stood around the others, and a few of them were seated at the table respectively.

"Their power…" Tsukansu said in awe, looking hard at the door in wonder, his voice low and trance like.

"Yeah…" Kanadou agreed, mumbling. He watched Mark, the Earth Minor as he chatted with the other ones. That was a smart plan you had back there, he thought in his mind, a bit proud that his Minor Counterpart was amazingly strong for just a beginner in his powers. "It's amazing, isn't it?" he mumbled again.

"Aside from that, it's not supposed to be that way," Shihou said, stating the facts immediately, as if there were nothing else to it.

"Could this be…?" Kakori croaked through a tired voice, sitting against the orange plaster wall, the stick in his mouth being moved playfully. "White Cloak's doing?" he laid against the wall, looking careless and bored.

The surrounding area was filled with the chatting of surrounding Minors when the door suddenly burst open with a loud bang against the wall, and everyone immediately turned their heads, their attentions being caught.

Setting sunlight poured into the room and brightened the scene to a small scale even more. At the doorway stood Raikettei, the Lightning Council with Rick, the Lightning Minor's arm around his neck, his body weak and tired from fighting. "A little help here," Raikettei pleaded as he took one step into the room and almost collapsed doing so.

A few Minors got up right away to help him, rushing to their feet in order to help.

"Rick!" Marissa shouted from her place on the red sofa chair, getting up immediately to help him into the room, seeing his body in such a weak condition. "Are you okay?" she asked, trying her best to carry his heavy body.

Rick blinked, even struggling to close his eyes. "Yeah, I'll be all right," he said, looking around the room to find the other Minors watching them. "When did you get back?" he asked in his weak, raspy voice, his eyes still friendly and knowing, as if his body was completely healed.

"I was the first one to finish," Marissa said with pride. "It's not hard to believe though, right?" she boasted even more, smiling and smirking with conceit, still carrying Rick with another Minor by his side.

"Heh," Rick muttered silently. He smiled a tiny smirk with his closed lips, his body feeling heavier and heavier by the second, and his lips struggling to move. "Still trying to…get rid of the pride problem, I see," he rasped out as Marissa helped him onto the floor.

Her eyes immediately went down with guilt. "Sorry, I… I didn't realize it," she said as she turned her head to the side, her cheeks showing a bit of blush.

Rick looked wide-eyed in a caring way, and then said reassuringly, "Its okay, you can work on it later."

Marissa turned back to look at him with a smile. "Is that so?" she said as she reached for the healing ointment on the desk by the sofa chairs, and bending down to treat his wounds.

"Lightning Minor?" Hanabikai asked, crossing his arms against the wall, standing straight up. His voice was as strong and powerful as ever.

"Yeah," Raikettei walked up to join the other councils, his steady, soft steps clicking against the plaster floors. "It took him a while, but he got the hang of controlling lightning." Raikettei's appearance was unique out of all the councils. For starters, he was bald, and had eyes that always seemed to be narrowed, that looked friendly but not too friendly. He had a trace of orange-yellow that outlined his eyes naturally, and gave him just a look that worked for him and only him. "By the way," he continued. "Who else is still out there?"

"Hyomaru, Hibiyomi, Shintenmaru, and Kazeshi are still out there," Dirondo said in her graceful, soft voice.

"Um…" Jeremy walked up to Eric, the Council resuming their talk, none of the Minors nor Jeremy noticing anything they were doing. Eric looked at Jeremy with a questioning look, as if to ask, can-I-help-you? "Do you need to… um," Jeremy seemed nervous. He stammered here and there, messing up this word and that. "bandage your burn marks? I mean… Hanabikai's fires can be pretty intense, so…"

"Ehhh? Jeremy-san, are you talking about me over there?" Hanabikai's voice popped in from the background at the sound of his name.

"Oh, no, no, no!" Jeremy pleaded, smiling nervously with his hands motioning in the air wildly, trying to get some of his energy out, the roll of bandages in his band dropping to the floor.

He turned around to find Eric pick them up. "It's okay," Eric told Jeremy in his strong, assuring voice. "I'll do it myself," he said kindly. He wrapped the bandages around one arm, and then bit it off to disband his arm and the roll of bandages. Then he did the same with the other arm. He gave the roll back to Jeremy with wandering eyes and Jeremy gladly accepted and walked away nervously. "Thanks," Eric muttered, then turned back to stare into space.

Why do I feel so nervous around this guy? Is there something wrong with me? Jeremy thought. "Jeremy," he heard his name being called. He saw the councils looking at him with their differential stares, trying to call upon him.

"Hm?" Jeremy asked, walking up to them, his height not even comparing to theirs, even when they sat down.

"How is Teresa?" Shihou asked, bending down to Jeremy's height and giving a friendly smile, something you would rarely see on her.

"She's doing okay, I guess. She's in one of the resting rooms, sleeping. From what I saw, a lot of her skin was ripped in different places. Just what did Minoa do with her?" Jeremy replied in his high voice, turning to find Minoa, but couldn't find her anywhere. "Where is Minoa anyway?" he asked, his stare wondering.

"She's resting as well. She was a little tired, too from that fight. It took some out of her," Tsukansu informed in his normal, mystifying voice. "She's not as hurt as much; she just needs to meditate is all."

"Wow, I guess that's what you get from the Mind Element, huh?" Jeremy said, his voice drifting off in wonder.

"Jeremy," Kakori stated bluntly, his eyes still half closed in boredom.

"Hm?" Jeremy mumbled in reply.

"I think you should restock on supplies. You should head to the stock room for supplies. You need to get as many as you can because I'm pretty sure that you're running out in that bag Shihou gave you, right? Just get anything you want," Kakori mumbled out his words halfheartedly, his eyelids feeling heavier and heavier, and then finally closing to a peaceful rest.

"Oh… okay," Jeremy replied just as halfheartedly, not realizing that running out of supplies for treating wounds was such a big deal to them. He started to head for the dim hallway when he suddenly had the urge to ask them something before he left. He couldn't wait for the question to be answered. "Um… I have a question," he stated from his place at the hallway entrance nervously.

A few of them looked back at him as a sign of acknowledgement. "Well, lately, I've been getting these headaches, and…they've been really intense, so…?" he asked, even more nervous now.

"I think there's medicine for that in the supply room," Tsukansu replied, interrupting even before Jeremy got a chance to finish his sentence. Then, Tsukansu turned back to face the other councils, taking his icy stare away from Jeremy.

"Oh…Okay," Jeremy said, walking away, feeling more surprised than hurt. His footsteps began pacing away in the darkness and Tsukansu listened carefully as they faded away with every single click. When they became far enough, he sighed and closed his eyes, trying to relax himself.

"Why did you have to be so rude to Jeremy-san?" Dirondo asked.

"We can't let him no anything yet," Tsukansu mumbled, reopening his eyes to reveal another icy, unthawing stare. "He has to think that everything is normal so far with him. On the other hand, if he's really experiencing the headaches that we think he is then…" Tsukansu gulped in the middle of his sentencing, not having the nerve to continue.

Everyone agreed solemnly and put the same kind of sad, glassy stare Tsukansu demonstrated.


	32. Chapter 32

The sun was finally about to set, the circle of heavenly light now cut by the horizon, spilling orange blood over the sky and grass, painting every aspect of Daniel's tension rising battle.

The wind whistled past, caressing the leaves of the forest behind them and the grass of the plains. The two stood many feet apart now, both of them locking stares like looking at a reflection. Each one waited for the other to attack, but instead got readied confident stares. The violet sky and benevolent clouds above seemed to move with the lifting wind.

Let's see what you can do, Daniel-san, Shintenmaru thought, shifting his feet, shuffling the grass blades and dust together that was carried off by the wind. Go! He declared, sharpening his stare. Daniel became aware of his movements and shifted his weight, ready to dodge. The tension broke off as the fight finally began.

In an instant, five "soul spheres" erupted from the ground like a ghost, and darted towards the red headed Minor. He dodged sufficiently, jumping backward while keeping his eye on the attacks that came toward him. More soul spheres zoomed out five at a time, Daniel dodging all of them with flips and jumps and ducks, the attacks crashing into the ground like miniature meteors, hammering holes into it.

He's pulling them from the ground? He thought, keeping his eye close on the attacks. No, it's not the ground. It's the grass. He's pulling soul energy from the grass! Daniel realized short into the fight as he saw the patches of grass that had been used for the first few attacks begin to wilt and discolor. So that's how it is. He's conserving energy by using life forms around him. Well, that's not going to work on me, Daniel thought backing up to a tree as the barrage of soul spheres stopped.

He's using a side supply, so in that case… Daniel looked to the wide forest behind him and gave it a promising stare. The sunset breathed into its aspects, seeming to water color in the trees and shrubs with a bright, unnatural orange. The usually green life shone with an artificial orange. Daniel looked back to find Shintenmaru still in his place, not tired at the least.

"Your plan is rigged," Daniel told Shintenmaru, his back still against the tree, the sunset portrayed on his clothes and skin, reflecting off his glasses, coating the grassy plains with its dead, false carroty look. "Five minutes into the fight and I've all ready figured it out."

"Then you took too long," Shintenmaru replied in his direct voice.

Daniel scoffed. "In that case…" he said, bending his knees and ducking downward, laying his hands on the floor. "Go…!" he shouted, the forest rustling with the wind in reply. The branches danced and mixed with the wind's tango, the leaves' waltz, and the sunset's choir. Like darting arrows, the trees and grass in the forest let out spirit spheres like cannons, releasing the glowing orbs like diving into Shintenmaru's position like a fallen star,

"Too slow," Shintenmaru muttered, taking one step to the right as he disappeared from sight in dust from the bombarding globes.

Did it…hit? Daniel thought, staring hard into the smoke, trying to see the least bit of a figure. The dark puffs of dust crept closer as they died out, begging for another chance to live. Like an UFO, Shintenmaru darted out of the smoke, his feet on another panel of earth he brought to life. He levitated into the air about six feet with the platform of rock suspended in the air like it was frozen inside time. The parade of showering life was nowhere to be seen, and the trees remained behind Daniel, a little weaker but still able to live on.

"You can't pull out all of the life from something yet. You're still weak, and on top of that, even if you could completely steal the life out of a tree, or grass blade, you shouldn't use your supply so fast. It's like firing a cannon with one cannonball," Shintenmaru lectured from the air, feeling the light wind brush his hair towards a certain direction, the sunset his best friend at this point. "You can't waste all you have without thinking about where you're sending it first. This should be common sense."

Daniel gave a dull stare. Shintenmaru stared back. "In that case," Shintenmaru continued. "I'll teach you about supply and using it in different ways." As his words finished and began to go through a consideration process in Daniel's mind, the panel of rock began shifting. With Shintenmaru posed on it perfectly, the front of it began to shift and stretch out forward, as if something in it were itching to break free from its eternal shell that imprisoned it so. The brown, rocky front formed types of thorn like shooters, three large ones protruding out like a cannon.

This is bad, Daniel realized. He's right that I can't call upon all of the life energy of something yet. I guess ability will come with practice after all. So in that case, I'll have to use this! Daniel leaned forward, as if getting ready to run track. He picked his head up and posed a ready, hopeful look. "Kihaku Renda! –Soul Barrage-" Daniel cried out as his own soul spheres pulled back and raced like bullets toward Shintenmaru's cannon arsenal, tens of them flying out at once, rapidly over time.

"This is it!" Shintenmaru cried out loudly, so loud that the people beyond the sunset horizon could hear his declarative cries. "Rokku Kyanon! –Rock Cannon-" he cried out, the platform reacting. The three thorny cannons at the front of the platform, one big one accompanied by two smaller and thinner ones pushed out large boulders like they were bullets that were the size of Daniel's soul spheres. The two attacks collided, one from the sky and the other from the ground. They created dust between them and friction that created a wall of light brown mist, blocking view of their opponent. The smoke soon began to cover Daniel's presence, wrapping around him like a fist of wrath.

On Shintenmaru's side, he watched the smoke wall grow from below, crawling higher into the air like they were reaching out to the clouds, to the sky, reaching out for their dreams, each one breaking and failing as the wind blew past, the dust overpowered and not motivated enough. The rocks stopped firing and the soul energy stopped zooming. All Shintenmaru could do now was wait.

Seconds into his linger, Daniel seemed to rush out of the smoke and headed directly below Shintenmaru's rock platform, Shintenmaru spotting him. "What do you think you're trying to do?" Shintenmaru asked, watching him with narrowed eyes. Daniel ducked into the rock's shadow, and showed his back upward.

"Let's go!" he shouted. "Kihaku Renda!" he declared again as another barrage or spirit energy came out in glimmering spheres, shooting upward and bulleting towards the bottom of Shintenmaru's beloved platform.

"Too slow!" Shintenmaru told him, the bottom base of the platform growing downward, creating a sort of pillar with a large, hemisphere at the end of it. The large dome suspended in the air like a puppet created a darker circle of shadow around Daniel as his spirit orbs crashed into upside down bowl of rock, the dome cupping the attack into a fully grown sphere. The base of the platform began glowing and outlined Shintenmaru's shoes. The life energy sucked in began to fill him like a pitcher did with a drinking glass.

Daniel stayed ducking on the floor, his body still inside the circle of shade. "Now you die," Shintenmaru said. The back of the rock platform grew a straightforward tail that emerged in a second, solid and steady like a pole. In the next second, it grew five scythe blades, one smaller after the other counting from the top. The rock sculpture of a five blade scythe looked so real, yet still so fake. The pole curved downward with Shintenmaru's commanding, and as Daniel looked up to see what was happening, he was caught in the neck in the middle of the five deadly blades, his body flying into the ground and the curved triangular pieces of rock cutting into his neck.

He put an expressionless look on his face as he lay there without energy. Then, in a flash, he disappeared into thin air. Hm? Shintenmaru thought. Did he… flash jump away? No. Couldn't have. In that case, it must've been a clone, then. I must say though, I'm pretty impressed. Even though he still may be a beginner at controlling his element, he can all ready make a clone in a minute of seconds. Shintenmaru peered back into the cloud of growing smoke, his stare piercing. He must still be in there, he thought.

"Guess again," came a voice suddenly appearing behind Shintenmaru. The council widened his stare in shock and surprise, and turned slowly to see who it was. Everything seemed to be going at slow motion at this point, as if karma had just put life on hold. His slow, turning stare finally found Daniel standing behind him, the tip of his feet just barely standing on the back of the panel.

"How…? When did you…?" Shintenmaru blurted out in a forced, sudden voice. His teeth were grit in a gasp; his eyes were dilated to one-tenth of their original size.

"Give me my energy back!" Daniel said, narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth in confidence and bravery, knowing that his plan had finally succeeded. Daniel delivered a punch to Shintenmaru's frozen face, and knocked him off the platform, his body flying six feet away and six feet down. Now, Daniel had the platform all to himself.

After pulling back his punch and watching Shintenmaru swish into the haze of dust, life energy that was taken from Shintenmaru's body with the contact of hand to hand combat lay in Daniel's hands, levitating like a tiny, handheld sprite. The sprite diminished in size and went straight back to Daniel's body, where it belonged. The energy pumped through Daniel's blood and he felt livelier again.

"Your mistake," he told Shintenmaru as he made the rock platform levitate back down, his feet draining all the life energy from it. "Was underestimating me, even with your great analytical skills." Daniel crossed his arms in front of his chest, peering past the dust that was almost finally done clearing, Shintenmaru struggling to get back on his feet. "Looks like the pride of being a council clouds your right judgment. That's why I never wanted a title like 'Minor' or 'Genius' in the first place."

This time, it was Shintenmaru's turn to scoff, even if he did realize deep inside that he had been wrong about Daniel from the beginning. Even if he did acknowledge him for the things he did, what he said was unpleasant to Daniel's ears, but it wasn't like the Minor cared about what people thought anyway.

"That's why, this time," Daniel said, the platform finally on the ground now, the Minor causing the cannons to continue growing. "This time, you'll be the one in for a world full of hurt!" he declared loudly to the orange sunlight that painted him, gripping the slanted platform that lay on the floor with a tight hold.

Looks like I really have underestimated him, even after I gave him credit for what he could do. This kid's right, Shintenmaru thought as he stood up on his feet and watched the rock cannons from before protrude from the ground, and continue to grow and stretch, creating even more cannons this time, preparing for a whole rapid fire barrage of an attack. Looks like the title of being a council really has clouded my mind.

"Let's go!" Daniel shouted as the large weapon that protruded from the ground that had at least fifty cannons in its arsenal emitted smoke from its sides. "Kihaku Rokku Hakabakashii! –Soul Rock Rapids!-"

In a second after the declaration, the holes of the tens of cannons emitted a strong, soul colored light. Large halos of spirit energy surrounded their ends, and prepared for fire.

Amazing, Shintenmaru credited. He was able to combine my old soul energy I put in to make the rock platform alive and his own soul energy that he used to create the multiple cannons and force them through the ends and prepare a powerful attack. If this hits, then I'm sure to be dead. In that cause, I'll get ready. Shintenmaru shifted his feet and smiled, accepting the glowing challenge that lay in front of him like a wall separating the Minor and Council. The glowing halos around the end continued to glow wildly.

"Go…!" Daniel declared, pouring all the energy in his body into the one attack. With a loud boom, the attack exploded loud screeches into the air and hurled out extra large spheres of energy out, emitting smoke into the air with their collision. They rained upon Shintenmaru, who did not try to escape, but instead, stood up to the challenge.

The sound of firing, crashing, exploding, and crashing was the only thing that was heard for miles. Smoke pooled the area in front and the attack lasted for only a few seconds, which was disappointing. Nine seconds is the limit I can go for this attack, Daniel counted in his mind.

The smoke soon began to clear and the tens and tens of pillar cannons sunk back into their place in the ground, shrinking in their place. The wall that separated the two fell, as if their bonds were too great for walls to sever. But now, a new challenge came. A new wall of depriving smoke and filling dust separated the two now.

Then, with a strong wind, someone- or something in the dust cleared the dust, blowing it in every direction with a circular wind.

What? Daniel thought in surprise, covering his eyes only partially with his arm to protect his them from the raging dust that blew past, which fluttered his clothes, trying to push him backward to the grassy plains behind him.

When the dust and wind died out, Daniel looked forward. Far from him, in front of Shintenmaru like a protector, was a winged messenger from the heavens. That's right – it was an angel. It's wings glowed with a holy, yellow light, and its blonde curly hair was without a halo, its wings spread out evenly like pure, sinless white. The feathers fluttered beside it, and its white dress gown looked delicate yet powerful, its stance hovering in the air in a graceful way. Its eyes were piercing, icy blue, where the sunset's orange light poured onto, painting them half orange and half blue with a hint of white. The third of a circle sun also glowed on its wings, making them look even more heavenly.

What the hell? What's an angel doing here? Daniel thought as he began analyzing it carefully, bit by bit in his mind just in case if it was going to attack him.

"Number 37," Shintenmaru came from behind the angel placed in the air, as if it were frozen in invisible, abandoned ice. "Guardian Angel."

"What is that thing?" Daniel cried out, demanding an answer, still staring hard at the godly sight, his mind not believe what his eyes told it.

"I didn't think I had to use it, or any of the rest of them in this fight, but I'm glad I brought it along. I haven't used it in a while though," he said, sighing nostalgically. "I guess it was a good thing I let it get some air," he said, peering to the angel beside him, the heaven's messenger not peering back, but just hovering in the air, as if suspended or punished for the one sin it would ever commit.

Daniel continued to look at the holy being, his eyes crazed into a lock of surprise and a bit of horror. "This is one of my many Icons. I can bring them to life and they can help me whenever I want. They're kind of like the cards you carry around, except I have a more wide variety of them. So wide, in fact, that I can't carry them all at once. Not even with a bag. I keep them all at my room back at the Inner Tower, and only brought this one, just in case things got ugly," Shintenmaru finally explained.

"I see," Daniel replied, his eyes calming, the disbelief drained. So in the end, he didn't underestimate me that much at all.

"Good thing I brought it too," Shintenmaru continued. "If I hadn't brought it, I could be dead by now." Shintenmaru gave Daniel a knowing,, piercing stare in the dying sunset. "I'm amazed at how much at how much you've grown in one fight. First, you came scared and only had the guts to rely on your cards, to hide behind them."

Daniel scoffed. Shintenmaru let out a chuckle as Daniel looked to the sunset, trying to keep himself from becoming nervous again. "But, now, you have the skill and power to use your own spirit energy in battle. So let's hope that stays with you along the way," Shintenmaru added.

Daniel looked up with normal, friendly eyes and a miniature smile. "And in the end, you know not to underestimate any of the Minors anymore," Daniel added to Shintenmaru's addition.

Shintenmaru laughed and agreed. The Guardian Angel shrank back down in size, its body beginning to discolor. It turned back into a miniature stone copy of what it really was when Daniel had spotted it, and stood its stand on a stone, circular panel. Shintenmaru picked it up and stuffed it in his robes pocket. "So," he began again.

Daniel lifted one eyebrow, as if to ask, "What?"

"Should we get back?" Shintenmaru said with a smile. Daniel returned the smile with a smirk. Then, they began walking away from the sunset and back to the Inner Tower where they would catch up with the rest of Minors, and wait for the two final battle to finish.


	33. Chapter 33

The windowless room began to churn stuffy, hot air gathering from different corners of the white plaster walls. Unnatural light filled the room in bright surroundings, the small room filled with eight Minors, chatting and meeting each other, some for the first time. The different toned voices filled the room like jelly did to a doughnut.

In a fluffy sofa chair by the wooden coffee table, Marissa, the Sound Minor looked around frantically. She turned her head many times from left to right, shifting her body, moving quite nervously in her seat as empty space surrounded her. Oh…she thought. Where is she? I thought there was another girl Minor. I need to talk to another girl around here… before I go crazy! Marissa began to pour out nervous sweat drops as her heart panicked, her chest pounding a beat like none other.

She stammered as she looked back and forth again, trying to find someone new to meet, someone she hadn't talked to yet. Her sight stumbled upon Lance, the fifteen year old Metal Minor. He had a cheerful look on his face as he peered into his thin sketchbook, Marissa's ears being filled with the sounds of pencil scribbling. His eyes were so happy and enlightening, he looked like a child. He sat comfortably against the wall in his red sofa chair, his pencil moving artistically from left to right, curving upward and downward.

Marissa's boredom molded into interest as she became curious as to what he was drawing. Well, no reason I shouldn't find out, she thought proudly, getting up out of her seat, her eyes closed with conceit, a confident smile worn under her nose.

Lance continued to make scribbling noises with his pencil in the spiral sketchbook, his happy stare heavy on the paper. "Um…" Marissa came close to Lance. She leaned over to the side, strands of her brown-blonde hair swinging with her direction, her eyes wide in curiosity.

Sensing her presence, Lance shifted his silver steel eyes to Marissa's leaning position. She quickly blushed, not because of Lance's noticing of her, but because of what she saw. There, in the sketchbook was a penciled imitation drawing of Marissa wearing a happy smile and having her hair at the sides of her head, her eyes cheerful and cherry-like, and her cheeks a bit chubby due to the smile. Her eyes seemed to gleam in the picture, like bright stars inscribed into her eyes.

Marissa backed up a few inches as her blushing cheeks became rosier. "Um… is that a picture of me?" she asked, thinning her pose and placing her index finger on her lips, as if shushing herself, her eyes made into a kind of puppy dog eyes.

"Hm?" Lance muttered under his breath, looking up from the sketchbook. "What do you mean?" he said, his voice showing a bit of confusion.

"Oh, nothing, nothing, it's just that…I saw my picture drawn into your sketchbook, and it was really good, so…" she said shyly, something she wasn't used to. Her stance was posed like she had no backbone. She flashed an obvious smile, letting out a forced laugh.

"Huh?" Lance expressed an even more puzzled look on his face. His eyes widened with confusion as he looked back to the sketchbook, to reference what she was saying, and then finally figured it out. "Oh!" he replied, causing her to blush even more. "Oh, no, no, no!" he said, frantically waving his hands, telling her that she was wrong, his facial expression tightening.

Marissa looked at him with a curious stare, as if asking politely to explain. "It's nothing like that," he muttered with a slight smile. "I just choose to draw things that seem… interesting to me."

Marissa's expression quickly tightened and an angry symbol flashed at the corner of her forehead, her eyes lean and narrow, her gritted teeth shaking demonic-like. Lance looked at her with puzzled eyes that wouldn't go away, his expression becoming frantic. "Wha…What is it?" he asked, his face showing growing hints of fear.

"And I'm supposed to be interesting to you!? Why you!" she continued to yell at him indistinctively, never stopping and shouting right in his face as if she were about to kill him.

"Oh, that's it?" Lance said, his expression becoming uninterested. His features became loose and bored.

"What're you saying? Hmph!" Marissa said, turning around and crossing her arms in front of her as a sign of rejection.

Lance sighed and closed his eyes sleepily. "I hate it when people think they're the topic of everything, it's completely conceited and useless to everyone else that's with you at the time," he said, his lips even slanting down lazily, as if trying to fall off. At this point, he looked like an old man that slept all day and night, not caring to complete the final features on his drawing.

"What did you say!?" Marissa shouted at him again, turning around to lock stares at him, face to face, her eyes flaming with demonic anger.

Lance let out another, longer sigh. "I also hate it when I'm forced to repeat myself," he added. "You heard me the first time, don't act like you didn't. It's the only reason you're trying to scare me with your indistinctive cries."

"Whaaaaat!?!" she let out a long yell from her lungs, using all her breath to do it, letting out a howling voice that would've forced any regular person to crawl up against the wall. But Lance didn't. He was keeping a cool head.

He got up from his chair and walked past, then turned to look back at Marissa, the blonde girl turning around as well, her eyes stopped blazing with heat. Lance held up his sketchbook again with his pencil and took one look at Marissa, and then started scribbling something across the page now. "This picture should be done now," he said, showing it to her.

Marissa let out a big gasp as she read across the top of the page of her picture, which read, "LOSER" in big, thin letters. She began to fume wildly and her head literally looked like it was going to fall off as it shifted colors into red without blushing this time. Lance gave her a weak, joking smile as he gave the lazy cheerful, closed eyes he always seemed to give. He laughed as he began to exit the room.

"Get back here, you!" Marissa roared, shaking her fist wildly in the air. Her mouth widened inhumanly as she let out her cries of anger.

"Leave me alone," Lance said with the least anger or unpleasantness, walking into the dim corridors, his footsteps pacing away slowly and steadily.

"Ugh!" Marissa fumed again. "Well?" she turned to Rick, who was still sitting up against the wall, resting his body for now. "Aren't you going to do anything about that guy?"

Rick looked up with unacknowledged eyes. "Huh? Why what'd he do to you?" he said, blinking in stupidity. His expression was blank, as if he had just awoken from a long winter's slumber.

Marissa uttered a low cry that grew as she tightened her fists at her side. Then, she let out a battle cry as her face went red with anger and her eyes went triangular white. She began smacking Rick indistinctively with the same hand over and over again as the poor unknowing blonde boy let out confused tears and humorous cries.

Across the room, Derek watched the horrid, yet funny scene with his own disbelieving, abnormally shaped at the moment eyes. She's smacking him for something he can't help so many times… that it sounds like applause, Derek thought, his eyes twitching.

As indistinctive cries of anger mixed with misery echoed through the room as the door swung open and was knocked against the wall with a loud crash, and entered the next Minor-Council pair. "Good afternoon!" Shintenmaru let out with a wide smile and cheery, crinkled eyes.

Daniel, by his side widened his eyes and lowered his lips in shock that it looked like a comedic mask, and muttered softly to Shintenmaru, "Um… Shintenmaru-sama…"

Shintenmaru continued to laugh, and then abruptly stopped, saying, "What? I was in a happy mood there. Um…" he began to realize. "Is someone clapping in here? I mean, I knew that we were powerful people, but really, there is no need of applaud-," his voice was cut off.

"No, you ego maniac, look over there!" Daniel's voice interrupted. He pointed to the deadly scene across the room as everyone else in the room watched.

Shintenmaru's eyes began to twitch, and then he yelled himself in his own demonic voice, which surprised everyone, "Hey you two cut that off right now!" At his demand, Marissa widened her eyes in shock to find the council in the room and backed off Rick, whose cheeks having hand marks imprinted on them, his eyes swirling with spirals in them, his mouth wide open and beginning to drool.

Shintenmaru calmed down after that as well, everyone else in the room silent, the sound of applause ending. Really…these kids…Shintenmaru thought as one of his eyebrows twitched in a horrid pattern, his eyes dilating to just small, chibi-like dots like the ones at the end of a sentence.

PoVS

Teresa stirred in her sleep, entangling the covers in her legs, the comfy inside of the bedspread drenched with her sweat. Teresa opened her eyes and stirred a bit more before sitting up weakly, rubbing her eyes to wear off the tiredness. She found herself in a large bed in a big room surrounded by dark, bare orange. What…? she thought sleepily. Where am I?

She got out of the covers and walked through the dark room, her bed surrounded by other ones that were identical, her bed the only one with the sheets tangled and messy, unorganized into mountains of doze-off. She walked past the darkness, swimming through it like a sea of evil. Where have I gone? The last thing I remember… then, all of it flashed back into her mind like a flood. Minoa telling her the secret of her ability, the truth that she was related to Minoa, the mind council.

Teresa shuddered in sudden shock. It can't be true… can it? She held her arms together close to her chest, her body still donning the beige straightjacket with long sleeves, her hair brushing her cheeks delicately. My wounds…! She realized. I have to have wounds! I went on an outburst again, didn't I? Where are they? She felt around different parts of her body in search for any scars or cuts, but couldn't find any. What happened?

Then, another, new voice came into her head. Thank Jeremy. He got you healed, the voice in her mind said, echoing off the corners of her mind.

Teresa let out a sharp gasp, and then turned around. "You're here," she said, peering into the darkness to find a figure.

"And you read my mind," the voice answered back, stepping out of the blackness. It was Minoa with her pale white eyes and hair, giving a friendly smile to Teresa.

"Is it true? Is it true that you were born ninety seven generations before me, and that you can see spirits just like me?" Teresa cried out, indecisive about whether or not she could believe her if it really were the truth at all.

"Yes, that's right," she said, closing her eyes and reopening them, revealing pentacle inscribed circles of pupils. "Need you further proof?" she insisted.

"No, I… I don't. It's just… I'm related to you? You're actually? My great great great great great great grandmother or something?" Teresa asked, her body warm and sweaty from the long resting sleep she took, her arms sweating.

Minoa twitched, her neck nodding off to one direction. Then she rose back up and said, "I'm not that old!" She sighed. "But yes, it's true that we're related. Are you shocked?"

"I- no, it's just that…" Teresa began, trying to figure out where her words went. She thought about it carefully in the surrounding darkness. "I have one request," she said finally.

Minoa looked at her with considerate, sympathetic eyes. "Teach me how to use those eyes," Teresa said confidently, slanting her eyebrows. I want to do good, Teresa thought. I need to be able to do more things to help pay my debt off to the people I killed when Jeremy came for me. And I need to start… now.

PoVS

"So what's your talent?" Daniel said in the circle of Minors after stating his, which was analyzing and trick mastering. Everyone sat in a circle except a few people, sitting with legs crossed on the cold plaster floors.

"Talent? Don't really have one except… would graduating from school after only two years count?" Derek asked, piquing everyone's interest, even when he didn't mean to. He placed a finger on his chin as he tried to figure out the answer on his own.

"Two years?!" indistinctive cries came about the room. "No way!" more voices came. Then, more mumbling came from the circle.

"Ha, it can't beat my one year graduating though," Daniel boasted, shuffling his red hair.

"You guys are crazy," Mark, the Earth Minor told the two of them. "The only thing I graduated in two years was tai arts class. That's all," he boasted yet mocked for himself in his own weird way.

More wows came from different directions. Eric and Walter, however, weren't in the circle, and were not speaking to anyone. They sat in two separate chairs in opposite directions of the room. Eric sat in a chair against the wall while Walter sat in a corner, alone with his thoughts.

Eric watched the three boys talked since Marissa and Rick had to be excused by Shintenmaru. He watched as the trio bonded, showing off their talents and telling stories of their wonderful pasts. Too bad mine isn't like that… Eric thought. An easy past is something I wouldn't know. But I'd rather have it that way. Plus, I like who I've become, he thought as he continued to watch the three. Will these three… become part of my new family? The new people I'll protect and swear my life to? I hope so.

At the other side of the room, Walter watched as well, peering to the three people in their conversation, talking like old friends who haven't seen each other in decades. Another part of him seemed to come from his body, another conscience, or split side of his came out and began talking to him, something like his inner thoughts and personality speaking to him.

"What's wrong?" the inner him said, his voice echoing only in Walter's mind. "Are you beginning to thirst friendship?"

Walter tightened his expression outside. "No," he told the other him inside, his voice echoing off his own minded walls as well. "Things like friendship are useless. The only thing I'm here is for revenge. It's the only place I have anyway."

"Good," the voice replied. "But make sure it keeps that way. I can sense that you're half lying all ready…" The split personality sunk back into the depths of Walter's mind and emotions, not being heard from until later when Walter needed him. Outside, Walter let out huge sigh of disappointment, and at that point, Walter, at some level, admitted to himself that, he too, was beginning to feel lonely.


	34. Chapter 34

The wind shuffled against the grass, filtering through the blades and dust. The cool night felt icy against Zack the Wind Minor's skin. The soft breezes crept throughout every inch of his body through his clothes as he watched the brown dust cloud finish clearing.

Above, the moon emitted its first rays of its pale light, calling upon the stars to awaken, to become the comrades of the crescent moon once again for another, cold, periwinkle night. Dark clouds dispersed, moving away from the scene and the surrounding trees' heads rustled softly in a graceful dance with the wind.

Zack felt sweat drops begin to fall down the side of his face. He swallowed hard and prepared himself, his body almost out of breath, taking small, unnoticeable breaths. He had to be watchful. The Wind Council, Madasora wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. So Zack continued to peer carefully into the dragging mist of dust, looking for any aspect of movement. Zack tapped the tip of his sky blue cap. It was a nervous habit he never learned to get rid of. The wind picked up horrendously as Zack something zoom out of the dust, dragging wisps of it along with its vindicated, golden brown wings.

Not this thing again! Zack thought, tired. He gritted his teeth in disgust as he prepared for another round of attacks. It's getting late… I need to find a way to win this battle. The large, medium sized unspecified bird zoomed towards Zack with a golden beak of piercing, as well as its beady, black eyes. Its wings fluttered in the air every now and then with the wind, its body gliding through midair easily, slicing the wind. It let out a horrid screech as it closed in on the confused Zack, who did not know what to do at this point.

"Stay away from me!" he cried out, putting out his arm which let out fluttering, churning winds in front of Zack like a moving shield. The bird squawked in resistance and elevated into the air, dodging the shuffling winds. It spread its wings out wide as Zack looked up hard, still wondering what to do, the hawk-like bird carrying the moon on its back. Its brown feathers seemed to glimmer with the rising crescent.

With a great, mounting speed, it zoomed down, as if dropping dead all of a sudden. Damn it! Zack thought. I need to get away! The bird headed straight for Zack, diving headfirst. With an amount of nervous, tense energy, Zack jumped backward, his feet lifting him high in the air, his body having not mastered the flight ability yet. The bird crashing into the grassy plains came soon after. The impact breathed more dust into the air, which seemed to fly up like a mushroom cloud. Forceful winds blew from contact, and rock and ground bits flew everywhere. The stones clattered to the floor, clinking with each other as if in toast. The dust flew up and the bird faded from sight.

Zack took a deep, panicky breath as he watched the dust fly up into the air, clearing only a second later. "Come back, Minasan, -Everyone-," Madasora's voice called out to the bird, a shadowy silhouette portrayed in the dust cloud zooming backward. A spinning wind blew by, clearing the dust from the area with an angry force, the winds whistling as they rotated in the grass.

Now, Zack and Madasora could see eye to eye, the two seeing each other as equals, even thought they truly weren't. Madasora had metro hair like Jeremy, the silver strands of hair dyed, which always seemed to flutter when he used wind attacks. His eyes were sometimes friendly and sometimes serious. He was a pretty normal person, and so was Zack. He always carried a pipe that poured out gray, winter smoke into the air, the curvy brown pipe always held between his teeth coolly, filling the air with the strong intolerable scent of tobacco. The thick smoke usually blocked one side of his face, the streaming cloud of gray blowing against him. The large, brown bird was now a white, tiny, chibi like bird you usually saw as cute little critters that roamed city streets with beaded black eyes. The pale, completely white bird was perched on Madasora's shoulder, and together with the pipe, it made him look sort of like a pirate. The tiny little bird seemed nothing like it was before, its bony feet clenching Madasora's skin. It chirped slightly and waited for command.

Madasora frowned in boredom. His white, dotted in eyes peered through his own cloud of smoke. "How long has it been?" he asked, peering to the crescent moon that hung high in the sky, as if a stage prop. "One hour? Two hours? The whole day?" he guessed continually.

Zack gave a slight chuckle. "Looks like it," he told him. "And neither of us are tired at all."

"You're right. Looks like I've been going easy on you all this time," Madasora said, looking to below the moon and eye to eye with Zack. "That's about to change though," he said in his groaning voice. "Go! Minasan!" he called upon the bird's command. "Taka Tsubame! –Hawk Swallow-!"

The bird reacted with loud chirps that evolved into screeches as they progressed. It ducked its head as if in same and fluttered its wings wildly, its body and color changing and growing in shape. It grew a large mane behind its head that discolored to dark navy blue. Its wings spread out and the size of Madasora's head ten times over, they spread like angelic, pure white wings, only hiding the darkness of the navy blue behind them. Its beak turned golden and its eyes narrowed and straightened.

Damn it… again? Zack thought, becoming tired of the constant use of the bird. As long as he has the bird to fight for him, I'm the one getting tired, not him. That's basically the point of using "Minasan," Zack analyzed. But this form… Taka Tsubame… I haven't seen it yet, so I don't know what it can do. All right then, let's give it a go.

The bird lifted itself into the air, rising only a few inches from its place on Madasora's arm, the half navy blue, half white bird zooming towards Zack with bigger wings than the last. "Go!" Madasora cried out as it shuffled towards Zack. Zack shifted his weight in reply, preparing for a close range attack. "Tsubame Jiten! –Swallow Spin-!"

The bird began to whirl in the air as it rocketed towards Zack. It carried air and wind in, making a sort of tornado blanket that layered its body, the whistling winds becoming visible white. So that's it! Zack realized, feeling a rush of air out of nowhere.

He moved to one side, dodging the Hawk Swallow that rocketed past him, zooming at an almost blinding speed. He looked back and found it turning its direction, redirecting it at Zack again. It's spinning in a clockwise direction, Zack noted. So in that case… Zack breathed in a large amount of air, filling his lungs and stomach and chest, and then his cheeks. "Shippuu Toshin! –Hurricane Rush-!" he cried out as he let the deep breath out in an intense, swirling tornado stream that expanded like a vacuum.

The attack made humid air disperse and swirl into the dance, the silver whipping cone colliding into the Hawk Swallow's rotation. The tornado took over it, spinning wildly like roulette. The Hawk Swallow was overtaken and lost inside the tornado as it continued to zoom like a missile inside the hurling winds.

Outside the gyrating winds, Madasora looked at the scene from far away, breathing his gray smoke into the air. So he learned how to use a more advanced technique, but he can't fly… this guy is completely… unexpected, he thought as the hoary gas pooled the night air, the coldness creeping more powerful, surrounding everything with its icy touch of hate.

Back at the intense scene, the rolling winds began to slump down and die out, letting the bird free from its cone-like cage. The overtaking winds revealed the hawk swallow that had stopped spinning violently, releasing it like it had put a godly grip on it.

The bird glided through the air smoothly now, as if ready to surface like an airplane.

"So you've figured it out," Madasora mumbled loudly, loud enough for Zack to hear.

"Yeah," Zack replied, turning one side of his face back to Madasora. "It wasn't hard. The only thing I know that can stop a clockwise rotation is a counterclockwise rotation. It's the only reason I had for the swirling wind attack," Zack explained.

The bird flew past Zack and deformed back into the tiny, white, cute bird. It perched itself on Madasora's shoulder again and waited for further command. "So then, let's try this one for size," Madasora declared, stating that another attack was going to happen. Zack gritted his teeth in despair, not wanting to deal with the bird, Minasan, any longer. "Don't worry," Madasora told him, noticing his reluctant. "This'll be fun, I swear," he promised, one that Zack was sure he wasn't willing to keep. "Go! Taka Tsubame!"

The bird flew up again and formed into the swallow, this time flying high into the sky, about five feet up from Madasora.

Zack sighed. "What now?" he anguished.

"Didn't I say this was going to be fun?" Madasora chuckled. "Just wait and see. Mittsu Rendan! –Triple Combo-!"

The bird flew up about a foot higher, and then zoomed down like a missile at Zack. It split up into three birds in midair mystically, as if cloning itself, each one the same. Shit! Zack thought loudly in rushed panic. He jumped away, succeeding in flight this time, then landing back to the floor a second after. The three birds crashed into the ground, making more stones clatter, clinking each other for another toast. Smoke and dust rushed into the air together like accomplices, shrouding Zack's sight with gray and dust brown.

From the middle of the fog, a strong wind rotation spread out, brushing the wind away easily. In the middle of it all hovered one bird that created the winds with its wings, fluttering in the air in a suspenseful way as if waiting for something.

Wait… that's not right, Zack noted. That's only one bird! The other two… Zack wondered where they went as he heard a sharp whistling above him. N-No way! He took in a sharp breath. He looked up with a widened stare and found the two other birds in a Tsubame Jiten – a Swallow Spin locked together, another blanket of rushing wind layering them like a soft, thin bedspread.

Two hawk swallows doing a clockwise rotation spinning together with locked arms in a counterclockwise motion. No matter what, I can't stop it. If I either use counter or regular clockwise wind, it'll just end up making the attack stronger. I have to dodge! Now! Zack's feet clicked away from the floor, commanding the brain's demand for safety. He the inches away attack crash into the ground and create more dust and smoke.

Damn! Madasora thought privately. He didn't get hit with the first two. And I doubt that he'll get hurt at all with the last one. We'll just wait and see… shall we?

Zack's eyes followed the last bird as it zoomed out of the smoke, a long wisp of it trailing it like a tail. The bird zoomed away high in the sky, and then began to zoom back down, its feet first.

Wha- What is it trying to do? Kill itself? Zack thought. He jumped into the air and flew, his back facing the ground, his body hovering in midair casually, not disturbed at all. What's it going to do?

The bird crashed into the ground, its cragged fingers seeping deep into it, applying great amounts of pressure, creating a forceful, wide ranged spiraling wind all around like a short tornado.

The wind tried to push Zack away, as if dusting him away with blurring winds so high that Zack had to protect his eyes from it. It blew him even farther away from Madasora and shuffled away his sky blue cap, revealing his disheveled, uncombed and messy brown hair as the birds formed back together into one, as if folding into one blade like a fan. The bird slowly turned itself back into the original Minasan, the cutesy white bird that was always perched on Madasora's right shoulder.

"Pretty good," Madasora graded. "But now, let's give Minasan a break. This time, I'll be more serious…"

"Good… I've been waiting for that," Zack commented, standing up back on his feet as he picked up his sky blue cap, patting it on his knees to clean the dust off of it. "I say, bring it," he told Madasora, challenging him as the cap replaced itself on top of Zack's head.

"Hmph, you're going to wish you never provoked me like you did just now," Madasora informed. He picked up the smoking pipe from his mouth and blew the smoke away, putting the flaming tobacco out. He carefully placed it into his robe pockets, and began to look serious. The bird by his side, Minasan, seemed to tense up, chirping its panic away, but never succeeding.

What…What's with this tremendous amount of sudden air pressure? Zack thought, feeling the temperature rise and the creeping cool air diminishing. The air pressure murdered the cold and moist air in the surrounding area, and the sky night suddenly began to look clearer. This much dry air… the clouds moving… amazing… there are no other words for it, but amazing.

White glowing energy began to surround Madasora like an aura of Free Spirit energy, his eyes turning whitish gray with his rising powers. Zack gulped as he immediately regret provoking him.

To be able to add so much air pressure and actually change the weather… this guy really is… something else, Zack thought in his mind as the dry air began to consume him, the white energy pouring out of Madasora even more.

Above, even the moon gave dispersed and misery drenched cries, calling out even more for the stars to reappear as the night ornaments that sprinkled the sky, to prevent the always known crescent sphere of being lonely and afraid.


	35. Chapter 35

The moon hovered silently above, the night of its crescent smile dry and without moist, the plain's winds dying with the rising pressure. The cold touch of the surrounding air turned demonic, Zack sensing something evil with it, something just not right. The trees stopped their dance of rustle, and the grass blades bent their backs in the act of being solemn. The dark, navy blue of the night painted the scene with mystery and suspense, the darkness soon overtaking. The sudden increase of air pressure began to choke away Zack's life.

The sky… it's clearing… he thought, beginning to run out of breath, his throat feeling heavy, his breath weighing two tons. As soon as Zack tried to take a breather to cure his uneasiness, the saliva dried from his mouth, leaving the insides of his mouth sticky and dry. This much air pressure… it isn't safe… Zack thought as even the high pressure began to eat away at the moisture in his body.

Madasora stood there completely safe from the pressure, the white energy surrounding him now like a gambit aura. Eeriness filled the scene and the moon's crescent laugh was now seen as a hooked frown. Zack tried to swallow, but there was nothing to sink down his throat to make him feel comfortable. He felt the blood begin to drip down his nose like a just barely closed sink, the drops of red pooling on the arid ground below.

The tension began to grow between the Minor and Council in the cold, wrapping night, Zack knowing that he was in major trouble. But he couldn't help but just stand there. He didn't know what was going to come, or what he should do. "Oshi…Gyosha! –Pressure Driver!-" Madasora announced in the depth of the night, his voice rising like a bird taken flight. The white energy screamed around him as the area between him and Zack suddenly shifted. It shifted like it was absorbing something for one mere second, and then exploded like the next atomic bomb. The explosion, instead of radiation, released large amounts of diverging air, the blurring wind painful to the eyes.

Zack winced as he was pushed back into the air, his body knocked up against the bark of a cold night tree. The winds continued to pour out like flying needles, cutting the skin on Zack's forearms which were used to protect his face. Streams of blood began to leak out as Zack felt his breath being taken away, his lungs no longer receiving any air, his mouth no longer being able to move, his nose still dripping out blood like a just closed sink.

Streaking red became half of his body as the intense, blurring wind calmed from its center, leaving Zack the only one bloodied. Some oxygen was put into the air, and the Minor immediately began sinking it in like a cup of water to a man who has not drunk in six days. What now? Zack thought tiredly, his eyes looking up with an unforgiving stare at Madasora, who seemed as calm as he was at the start of this battle.

"Arashi I-guru! –Tempest Eagle!-" Madasora declared into the fight, the green heads of the trees shifting. Immediately from a little above Zack's head came an eagle flying downward, curving its flight style and diving in the sky blue eyed Minor's direction. The eagle completely made of air and visible wind, had traces of circling wind streaks, as if a tassel ornament of a sort. The eagle screeched as it was born a foot away from Zack, the large bird screeching its death cries out like a warrior at Sparta.

No! Not yet! Zack pumped through his head. "Nenshou Kaze! –Burning Wind!-" Zack yelled out, taking the short breath he could, his lungs becoming full with dry air. The attack came out in a stream, which formed into a small cloud only large enough to fit the bird in a miniature, gray aired cage. The eagle squawked as it got caught into the cloud stream, a loud explosion from within the haze. The echoing boom filled the night sky, the sound that mimicked a gunshot being able to be heard from miles away.

The blast packed into Zack's ears, his eardrums ringing wildly. The emerging smoke puffs cleared away as fog that became wishful clouds that would try to accompany the lunar sphere in the sky, which wore the constellations like jewelry that glimmered and made people thing, "Wow."

The eagle rose as good as new, feeling even more motivated and powerful now. Not…good, Zack thought, trying hard to breathe. I…I can't move… not in this pressure, he told himself as he struggled to move. His mind commanded the legs to move, but the limbs would shiver with unstable energy and disobey. Zack soon became practically swimming in his own blood as his legs quaked violently. His bloody arms tried to hold on to the bark of the tree behind him, but they trembled in insecurity as well.

The bird let out more battle cries and dived in faster, now inches away from Zack's chest. Its mean, white beaded eyes narrowed like needles as seconds later, a distressful cry was made to the moon, echoing off the night zenith.

PoVS

To think this place had an ocean to begin with, Kenneth, the Ice Minor thought as he stood a bit unsteadily on top of the skyscraper of a glacier in the waving ocean currents. The cold ice accompanied the misty, cold breezes that brushed his large flame of a hairstyle. The moon seemed to accompany the glacier in the sky like its next door neighbor, shining brightly in the background like a big sphere of hope that would chant a battle cry for the battle that seemed continuous.

Even thought the surroundings were icy cold and slippery, and of course, high above into the air that it was right next to the moon, sweat and heat filled Kenneth's body from being without rest. Beads of perspiration trailed down the side of his head as his eyes wandered aimlessly. He breathed in the cold, icy air in and out heavily, his body becoming tired from moving around too much. His eyes continued to stroll the cragged blue ice surfaces and hills that seemed to stretch for miles. The rocking of the navy midnight tides swept against the base of the thick ice tower.

"Over here!" the Ice Council's voice appeared out of nowhere, his voice echoing off the empty space. Kenneth looked up in shock with widened eyes as he prepared his body for battle again, pouring as much of the periwinkle energy into the insides of his hands, making it glow like an electric volt.

The Ice Council, Hyoumaru had long hair that stretched to his shoulders that seemed periwinkle blue. He wore large, headphone like earmuffs that covered his ears and connected at the top of his head with a thin yet wide black headpiece. At the sides, his hair was cut into thorny spikes and at the front was just a medium thing of hair that took the left side of his forehead from view. His eyes were pleading with snowy blue, and his height was normal, just like every other Council. Hyoumaru appeared five feet away from Kenneth, looking relaxed and calm, his thing of hair at the front swaying a bit with the wind, doing a dance that only the glacial breezes could command.

"I'll give you a break this time," Hyoumaru said, smiling friendlily, his eyes curved into small triangles of happiness, his smile wide and showy with his pure white teeth. "Get ready!" he announced, breathing in huge amounts of air with an open mouth widened into a large O of confidence.

Kenneth took the advice and shifted his feet. At least he's fair like he should be in training, but I thought the councils were supposed to take on their Minor counterparts with all their power and force. Oh well, I guess I'm the one that gets the break then, Kenneth thought as he got the energy stored in his fists ready.

"Hyou Enmu! –Hailing Haze!-" Hyoumaru said as he released his stored breath out in an expanding streak that came out in white-blue puffs of freezing, cold air. The stream of cloud-like puffs pooled on the floor like fog, and then raced like a diving leopard at Kenneth, who came prepared.

The Ice Minor slammed his hands against the ground in increasing energy, his hands glowing with the light blue shine of power. "Aisu Hei!" Kenneth announced, causing large, randomizing pillars of glacial ice to spill out and stand straight up into the air, releasing cold, chilling fog with it, creating a sort of wall for Kenneth's protection, the transparent, disfigured defense traced with blue. The raging smog of Antarctic air diverged at contact with the wall, breaking into two streams of mist that pooled at the wall's sides.

As Kenneth remained unaware, still on the floor with his hands pouring energy to keep the wall intact, the icy fog that continued to spill behind him began to form the shape of a serpent, or snake of some sort. It began to grow and grow and raise piercing red demonic eyes until it was recognized as a frothy mist dragon. It opened its mouth silently in bunger, its outline aspects shivering unstably. It hissed slightly, the snake like cry unheard in the rushing haze that made loud friction against the ice wall.

The dragon zoomed toward Kenneth from the back, opening its mouth wide for its first meal of the day. Kenneth found the serpent Cryptid at the corner of his eye, which alarmed him at first, then warned him. In the cold, growing air, the Ice Minor raised a small pillar of ice to stand on and leaped onto it, the pillar rising high into the sky to match the Ice Wall's height. The dragon stopped in its tracks as it realized it was about to crash into the ice pillar's body, and then streamed up with needling eyes that screamed bloody murder and an open mouth that begged for late night breakfast. It revealed a frothy tongue inside that was like mist fire. It tried to catch up with the rising pillar of the Minor's but the ice tower raced up too fast and high.

Kenneth gathered more energy in his fist and sent out another pillar of frozen water, but this time, from his hands. The streaking attack seemed magical, and crashed directly into the dragon, spilling its aspects into the late night breezes. The ice pillar crashed all the way down into the floor below and the pillar stopped moving once it reached the ice wall's exact height. Kenneth pulled the pillar back as dust mixed with cold wintering ice froth pooled a patch of glacier surface below. The dust cleared quickly, its periwinkle clouds diverging.

The pillar reversed back into Kenneth's hands, which also seemed like a magician's trick as the surrounding pieces of haze below came together again, and recovered the dragon's form, the wild serpent still craving for Minor blood widening its mouth again in hunger. It zoomed upward at high speeds, and Kenneth backed up and stood on top of the ice wall now to dodge the attack. The serpent's shaft swept into the sky above, its long body being pulled upward and disappearing completely.

The accompanying moon cheered for victory on both sides as it continued to watch, for it was the only audience that would applaud for the two determined fighters. Still placing his stare hard on the ground below, Kenneth did not realize the dragon spring back down from the misty, snowy clouds acrobatically, twisting and turning in the most crazed and uncontrollable way thought possible, as if it were part of the circus. It raced away the two yards that separated him and his meal, Kenneth realizing this just a minute before it made impact.

Kenneth turned h is stance skillfully and banged his hands on the ice wall's thin surface, creating a more miniature ice wall that blocked the dragon's fury, the dam of frost causing the hoarfrost myth at the sides, just like at the beginning. More haze pooled behind Kenneth now, and he used more energy to keep the wall together.

Many feet behind him, where the mist was continuously pooling, two serpent like shapes formed from different sides of the wall that separated the two. The frosty serpent shaped air became dragons as well, and had the demonic beckoning eyes, but this time, more evil with ominous glow. They hissed out cold, freezing air, their crave even stronger now that they had been revived.

This time, Kenneth would not notice, and this time, there would not be a third ice wall. The two dragons gave a second's worth of impatient looks to intertwine with each other, and then, as if agreeing upon it, raced with extra speed at Kenneth's unsuspecting back.

They opened their mouths wide as they were just bare inches away from their warm comfort. Oh, how they longed for a warm body to feast on for so long, how they waited and waited so patiently to be summoned and set their sights on an unsuspecting soul. Just as they could not wait no longer, they dived right into their first meal in such a long time, and thinking they had the upper hand, they were caught in something even they unsuspected.

A centimeter away from Kenneth's backside, they became imprisoned in a huge range of an ice pillar, as long as the longest building you could think of, and as wide as a normal building you find in everyday life. Their frothy bodies became preserved and frozen, the look of hunger and attempt at murder iced into their expression for the rest of time. They remained side by side, their periwinkle blue now icy blue. The ice that imprisoned them so had come from no place other than Kenneth's back, who really all along expected it to happen.

"Are you running out of tricks, Hyoumaru?" Kenneth asked mockingly. "Or did you really think I would fall for the same trick twice?" he said, loud enough for the council way down below to hear him, his voice echoing off the pale moon.

"Ha, you think you've got the upper hand, kid?" Hyoumaru asked, having a few more tricks up his sleeve. "Think…again," he said as he walked up to the original ice wall's base, and flicked it. The sound of the flick against ice went so high, even Kenneth heard it, causing him to widen his eyes.

"What…what was that?" Kenneth muttered under his breath, his back still having the ice imprisoning technique carried on his back. I can't move at this point, Kenneth realized. Is this what he planned for all along?

Back at the base of the risen ice, Hyoumaru's finger still lay on the ice, which began to make small and steady cracking noises. The short and slow paced sounds soon became longer and louder, faster and stronger, until the intense sound of cracking ice filled Kenneth's ears. "N…No way!" Kenneth yelled to himself, taking his anger out on the nonexistent person in front of him.

The cracking filled the whole night scene, suspense hung high in the air. The moon even began to wait silently, wondering like a child about what would happen next. With the tip of the finger still barely on the ice, the cracks on the wall grew bigger and larger in diameter, and the black crooked lines stretched all the way to the top.

All the way up to the peak, the all ready unsteady and slippery surface that lay beneath Kenneth's feet came to shift horridly, the cracking even piercing his ears there. He felt his left foot sink lower, and his balance fall. He had to release the ice prison from his back, but couldn't. His state of shock had consumed him in wide-eyed and unable to be working nerves. It was like his state of mind had become blank, and the pumping of blood through his heart had shivered down to nothing but an invisible feeling that became numbing and nonexistent. From the corners of his mind, he felt his body slip, but paid no attention to the rushing cold air that brushed wildly on his face and every other aspect of his body as he raced down like a missile. Falling from such a high elevation would've petrified anyone into eternal shock. Falling with the long ice prison and falling shards of the wall, Kenneth's body crashed down hard onto the original glacier's top, the sounds of ice shards clattering together in the air and ground filling his ears.

He felt blood begin to leak out and pool at his cheeks and back. At his collision, a huge amount of dust and glacial mist exploded into the air like a clouding wall of suspension. The sound of clashing filled his ears and mind, hypnotizing him into an even higher ranked trance.

Outside, Hyoumaru waited for the dust to clear, not even knowing what to feel as he watched it shimmer away into nothing, the cold night wind beginning to pick up. Everything remained silent now, and the falling ice pieces finally reached the surface, the sounds of conflicting and colliding pieces of glacial ice dying out.

The moon lay in the background at one side, and the slight rocking of the ocean lay at the other, the two competing with each other, the tide and the sphere of lunacy. The crescent smile of it yet again turned into a hooked frown as the dust finally cleared away. Suspense still lingered in the air, refusing to die out as everything seemed to remain still and silent.

The choking suspension deceased away completely now. Finally, Hyoumaru laid his eyes on what was laid before him…his eyes went wide and his expression became locked with horror as he took a sharp, short breath that he would have to hold in for a long time. Now, he was the one that was too frozen to move.


	36. Chapter 36

As always, the dimmed corridors that held no light were as silent as ever, allowing the clicking of Teresa's own shoes to follow her with each and every step, ringing in her ears like a leech that wouldn't come off. The closed space of the labyrinth hallways that stretched through the place like a million snakes were as dark as a burnt memory. The clicking of Teresa's own shoes continued to follow her as she neared the end of the next corridor, turning to proceed to the next one. As the echoing footsteps pumped through her mind, her confidence was trying the rebuild itself. This isn't real… she thought. It's not reality, because I really am crazy. I really am hallucinating. None of this was ever true, she tried to make herself realize, right away believing it. Is it? I still don't know. After spending three years of searching, I still don't know whether my life is a dream, or a real, steady paced life. If you could call it steady at this point.

Teresa remembered what had happened recently. The feeling of denial filled her thoughts as she turned the next corridor. She sighed as her pace slowed, the sound of the clicking shoes becoming more far apart between each other, and more eerie. The pain of rejection also began to fill her body and blood, causing her to feel immediately depressed inside her mind. She stopped walking to think a bit, stopping the only sound pattern to be heard for what seemed like miles. She closed her eyes slowly, as if she were drifting off to sleep, and slowly replayed the moment in her mind.

_"Show me how to use those eyes," she had told Minoa in the darkened resting room, feeling confident to learn. I need to pay back my debt for those deaths from before. If I don't, I'll be the one who will never forgive myself. Teresa held her fists tight in front of her, showing that she was ready to be educated, staring hard at Minoa who stared back with emotionless eyes._

_"These eyes…they shouldn't be fooled around with," Minoa said, her voice coming out in a low whisper, as if she were dying inside. The darkness surrounded the scene like a prison. The ebony ate away at the two people's features, shading in its own blackness like an infection that took long to take effect. _

_"I know, I know," Teresa pleaded. "Just teach me. I need to know so I can pay the debt I myself caused."_

_Minoa sighed. "Let me ask you something," she said, closing her eyes in a tired way. Teresa looked at her with pleading stares, as if asking what/ "Everyone knows that there are good things and bad things in life. Now, let me ask you, what do you think about things that hurt people, and things that make people feel good?" she asked the random question._

_Teresa looked at Minoa for a second in the forever surrounding dark. She wondered why she had suddenly asked the question, but decided to answer it and get to the point. But now that she actually had to think of the answer, her features tightened and she became uncomfortable and depressed. She sighed and put a solemn look that lay hard on the unseen but felt floor. "Good things… they're just an illusion," she began. Minoa made a look of piqued curiosity._

_"What do you mean?" Minoa asked, forcing the answer out of her._

_"I mean, when good things happen to you, you only feel good temporarily. It's just an illusion. It's never reality, is it? Any good thing that happens to you. It just makes you feel better at the moment. Bad things on the other hand…" she paused to let a wave of depression take its toll. "Bad things scar you and stay in your heart forever. There's no point in good things. Bad feelings will always be the prevailing scarring of your heart, even if you continue to bury them as time passes on."_

_"I see," Minoa stated bluntly. "In that case, I can't teach you how to use the Miroku Family's gift, Visible Darkness," Minoa stated, walking away towards the door, leaving a crushed face on Teresa._

_Teresa stumbled at the direct answer. She stared in disbelief and yelled out in a craze, "Why!? Just because I have a pessimistic opinion? Is that why!? Tell me!" she demanded. She couldn't lose this chance to get more skill. She needed as much as she could to help keep the promise she made to herself, since she had no experience, unless you count the five minute battle between Minoa and her._

_"Visible Darkness isn't something to be messed around with. It's dangerous to those who venture it at first. It can kill you. I don't feel nor want to put you through the pain of doing so. And even if I felt that you were ready for it physically, you wouldn't be ready for it emotionally. Not until you have an open heart. That's something you don't have at this moment. There are too many things clouding your mind," Minoa explained strictly, turning back to talk to her as she was inches away from the exit. "More importantly, you have to focus on taking out White Cloak and not getting killed more than your family abilities."_

_Minoa began to walk away, her footsteps clicking away from Teresa slowly as the teenage girl was left alone, her hopes and spirits finally crushed. She bent her head down in her own personal shame, her violet hair falling to the front of her face. I… I can't learn it… and… I can't keep my promise now, can I? I'm just… worthless._

Teresa felt herself come back to present time, finding herself in the hallway with the surrounding darkness that still ate away at her features slowly like a disease. She resumed her pace, listening to the clicks of her own shoes as she tried to find the inspiration to continue her life that she had so hesitantly lost.

Then, in the distant, she heard another set of sounds. More footsteps, she realized. They were loud and echoing, powerful and creeping closer like they were attracted to her. They seemed to come closer and closer and then, soon into the dim corridors came ten year old Jeremy, who almost ran into her when he finally noticed her in the way. He seemed frantic, like he was running after something, or he just really had to go to the bathroom.

He stopped with a haul, the sudden pattern of footsteps freezing in the middle of their pace. "Teresa-san!" he cried out with widened eyes. "You're out of bed! And you look great! Your wounds have totally healed!" he yelled happily. "That's great!" he said, ignoring his urgency.

Teresa put back her emotions in the deep corners of her mind. Right now she had to focus on talking to the ten year old boy. "Yeah, I guess that is good news, isn't it?" she piqued. She forced a smile that seemed completely obvious as for some reason, she felt nervous.

Jeremy, sensing her need to fake happiness, widened his eyes in acknowledgement. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, it's fine. Nothing, really. Well, I should get going. I'm sure you should too," Teresa informed, walking slowly past.

"Okay," Jeremy's voice came out slowly, the ten year old watching her pace slowly away from him, his wondering eyes hard on her back as she turned the corner. She walked with such depressing grace, it almost seemed…inhuman. Jeremy just put it in the back of his mind, and continued to run through the corridors again, his loud, heavy footsteps resuming.

Teresa continued her walk without a sense of direction until she heard something else this time. It seemed like a yell of some sort, and then a chair screeching. The noise interested her, and she decided to walk towards it, being cautious of what would happen. Light seemed to come from this corridor, revealing an opening that lead to a room with very, very dim lights on, but compared to the creeping darkness of the cornering halls, it seemed like the luminous sun up close to earth as the dim lights did to the darkness Teresa found herself swimming in.

Teresa began to pick up her pace, hearing her footsteps become heavy. She didn't care who might hear her, but found herself at the front of the entrance to the room that was without a door, peering hard into the barely lit room. Old, rectangular ceiling lights made the room visible, and Teresa found two other people her age fighting.

"What did you say?" one yelled, standing straight up on her feet, her face tightened with growing fury and clenched fists. Her eyes revealed demonic anger as she gritted her teeth in wilderness at the opposing boy. Her hair was long and brown-blonde. She was a beautiful girl, and seemed like she was about to punch the lights out of the guy she was talking to.

What's going on? Teresa thought, keeping one arm at the side of the entrance, half her face peeking into the room with light. The boy she was talking to had his eyes crinkled with a smile, his silver hair long and put to the back. His smile revealed no teeth as he seemed to have no care in the world for the violent looking woman in front of him, most likely because he couldn't see her.

The silver-haired boy cocked his head up in realization, his eyes still closed. Then, he lowered it again, saying, "I said, you have no talent or beauty whatsoever." His voice came out so silently and steady, as if he had no stress nor a care in the world about whatever happened around or to him. It was calm like a sea breeze.

"What!?" the blonde girl yelled, tightening her fists even more, her eyes flaring with anger.

"Hmph," the boy scoffed. He opened his eyes to reveal silver glimmering pupils that peered towards Teresa's direction from his place in the wooden chair. There was a table separating the two teenagers, which was good since it kept both of them safe. His eyes wandered to find Teresa standing right there in the doorway, her presence not hidden well enough.

"What're you looking at?!" the girl screamed out. She shifted her head swiftly to the doorway's direction and found Teresa there as well, her eyes going wide in acknowledgement, the fury in her eyes being put out. She uttered a low cry at the presence of Teresa standing there, who watched the two people who watched back with saddening eyes.

PoVS

The boys were still in the first room, waiting for the least two Minors to finish their training fights, getting to know each other. "Come on, you're the only one who hasn't said anything in a long time, tell us something about your past," Mark declared loudly, shouldering Eric with his tanned forearm, making the Fire Minor feel uncomfortable.

"Yes, it would be nice to hear something about you, Eric-san," Dylan said with respect, his arms tied up in strip bandages like Mark's were. Dylan smiled a wide smile, showing off his cleansed, white teeth that matched with his creepy crinkled eyes and pale hair.

Derek and Daniel sat on the floor comfortably, just staring at Eric with couldn't-care-less eyes. Walter remained in his sofa chair far away at the other side of the room with closed eyes, locking away his stare and putting his mind deep in thought.

"Come on, tell us something!" more voices went around. "Yeah, tell us, tell us!"

Eric shut his eyes in resistance, but decided that he couldn't take it anymore. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he yelled out in fury, causing Dylan and Mark to back away and Walter open his eyes, sucking him back to reality.

Eric's eyes flared like the flames he created, his fists tightly gripping the air in his place at the sofa chair in the middle of the room. His eyes flared with annoyance as he declared, "What's the point of telling you guys any stories? My past isn't one to be fooled around with, and it's definitely something that doesn't concern you. Even more than that, it should and will not be used as an interesting five minute story for you guys! So just leave me alone, all right?" he outburst, causing silence in the room that seemed to last for eternity.

Dylan and Mark took a gulp in realization and apologized. Eric sighed and closed his eyes, sucking himself into his thoughts as the Earth and Botany Minors took it as a forgiveness statement.

My past… Eric thought. I haven't thought about it for a long time. I've been to busy obsessing over wanting someone to protect, wanting someone that I cared about, and here I am, just yelling at the ones that will become that. But even so, my past is important, and is going to stick with me forever throughout life, Eric thought deeply as he loosened his body, sucking himself back into his memories. I still remember those days, those days that I will never forget…

_I lived in the poverty-driven and violence polluted town of Kusahawa. It was a run down village in the worst condition possible, and I was the innocent boy that grew up in the wrong place. All the parents their struggled to keep the jobs they had and the lives they had given birth to. Everyone was poor and breakfast was a strip of bacon if you were lucky while dinner was a dead fly if you were even luckier. Maybe even half of any insect would be considered lucky. Everyone got their source of water from stormy days that ruined what little property anyone had, and the streams that seemed to flow by the nearby villages. _

_All the children there were ignorant and bullies, mean to everyone they could find, even if they were bullies as well. Many physical fights were around the place, even if you were just three years old, and the even more run down school was always days away from collapsing, the classes barely educational and the teachers barely sophisticated. _

_I had just a bad of a house and life as any other kid there. But you were lucky if you were an adult. You didn't have to deal with keeping your child healthy, or finding food for yourself. Kids just stole what little food from half dead farms and one cent stores. Of course, I was born into this life, and I knew that I had to live with it. I wouldn't give up hope, thought, I knew things would change._

_School wasn't easy, either. Classes were, but interaction with others weren't. I remember exactly what I had to go through everyday: the punching, the kicking, the begging, the mocking, and not to mention the spitting. _

_The day was cloudy as always, and another day of school meant another day of pain. I walked into my English class slowly, my footsteps creaking on the boarded floor that had holes and wooden planks missing from it. I walked insecurely to my seat as stares from other students what just happened to show up to school today followed me until I sat down. The teacher wasn't here… he hasn't been here for two days, and half the class is gone. No one ever cared to show up to school, but I went every single day. I wanted to get the best out of the worst, even if it was nothing compared to a normal life. I waited nervously in my seat, my body practically curled into an insecure ball. I heard whispering in another direction of the room and then shuffling of feet that crept closer to me. My seat was all the way to the back corner of the room, where I liked it. I was surrounded by the least people. _

_The scuffling of footsteps were creeping closer and closer, and I felt my heart about to implode into tiny little bits. My eyes widened and my short brown hair out, I felt myself about to break down. I was only eleven years old at the time, and was all ready sure that I would become a worrywart when I grew up. _

_Suddenly, I heard the shuffling stop short near me, and I felt a shadow cast over me from behind. I shuddered to think who was behind me as I chattered my teeth continuously in nervous habit. I waited minutes and minutes for what would happen, hoping that the teacher would come in any minute now to start a lesson, or to at least just be here, but no one ever came. _

_I felt a punch crash over to one side of my face, knocking me out of my seat. Tremendous pain spilled over one side of my face as I clutched it, curling up into a sphere on my side on the floor. In the corner of my eye, I saw the most of the class that was here behind my seat, one guy walking up to me and picking me up by my shirt. _

_I stared up at him with my pleading, childish eyes as my body hovered above the ground about a half of a foot in the air, my back against the wooden wall. My eyes shook in their place horridly as I waited for what would happen._

_"What's the matter, Eric? Are you scared?" the kid yelled at me, his high yet serious voice mocking me. I stared at him with begging eyes, hoping that he wouldn't hurt me today, hoping that I would get a break. "Aww… isn't that pathetic? Little Eric is shaking in fear," one of them from the group watching noted. Other people who remained in their seats were just sitting there, completely bared. _

_I tried to mutter words out, but I knew I couldn't talk back. That would just be asking for a beat down. "Answer my question, innocent scum!" the bully holding me up yelled as I received another punch, knocking me to the floor again, feeling the little security of the surface behind my back. "There's no such thing as innocent in this town, so why the hell do you even try? Why do you choose to be such a wuss, you weak piece of crap?!" he yelled at me as a group of them came to kick me in various parts of my body._

_I lay on the floor, helpless and feeling worthless, waiting for it all to end as I tried to hold back the tears and cries of pain. Doing that would only provoke them to hurt me even more. They finally finished their rampage of kicks and steps, and walked away to their seats slowly and coolly, leaving me there like a thrown out toy. My eyes watered and tears began to streak down my face as I struggled to get back up. My small legs wouldn't support my body, and I could barely move my arms. They so desperately tried to make me one of them, but I had always to become my own person, not them. No matter how many fights I get into, I won't succumb to their temptations. No matter how much pain I felt, I still kept hope. Tears leaked out like bullets of pain. It even hurt to cry. _

_That day, I walked home, pacing steadily, hoping no one would come after me. The clouds had cleared but the intense sun gave no mercy. I walked through the dirt paths of the village, passing by all the demolished houses, and the dominating trees. I felt the tears trying to come back, but I told myself that I had to be strong. I didn't know what things like pain were doing in the world, but I knew that it would be okay. Somehow in my own, naïve and childish way, I thought everything was going to be okay. _

_The emotional pain had not worn off yet as I walked slowly, my legs struggling to move, my body feeling like it was going to collapse any second. I need to become stronger… I need something… to help me… I realized. My thoughts were even tiring me out. But what…? What can help me now? I can't handle another day of pain…I can't!_

_When I finally went home, I got an hour of rest after hearing another lecture about how I should try to fit in with the other kids and be tough by my parents. I don't know why they were like that, maybe they just didn't want me to feel anymore pain, but it was too late for that. I know that sometimes they try to help even if it comes off invasive and totally away from what I believed in, but I do think that their purpose was still good at heart. _

_Minutes after my rest I found myself in the forest, wandering around to a place where no one would find me. I needed more physical power to defend myself, and to protect the other people that I love in this village, and I don't know if this will work, but I sure hope it does. I stepped through the towering grass blades in the forest barefoot, my body still a bit weak, but I couldn't waste anymore time. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the ceiling of green above, spilling brightness onto my tired body and ripped clothes. The surrounding trees were caked with moss and dirt, and my feet were uncomfortable in the smell of wet grass and nature. I was very short at the time, shorter than I am now. My innocent and round brown eyes matched with my short brown hair. My tiny hands were determined to do a lot of work and training, training my muscles, even if I seemed too young to grow that kind of muscles._

_Yes, that was my idea, to train myself physically so I would have enough power to defend myself, and others. The process would take long, that I knew. But it was all worth it, so I found all the bodies of decayed trees I could, and began to get to work…It was a crazy idea, that I knew as well, but it was the only solution I saw. _


	37. Chapter 37

Months later, I became someone completely different. Everyday after school I trained myself in the forest, improving it just so I could protect the ones I cared about. I did everything I could think of for the rest of the day: pushups, sit ups, weight lifting using rocks and wood, running, pull ups, and so many other things that I can't even list. It really turned out for the best, too, I went from someone with no courage and power, to someone who could make a difference, which was something everyone needed.

People pretty much stopped bothering me after that. They stopped picking on me, they stopped call me names, and stopped beating me up. If anything, I was the one more capable of beating them up now. But I chose not to; I wanted to be different from everyone else.

It was a sunny day, and I chose to oversleep. I was fourteen now, and had graduated from school all ready. I began to stir in bed as light poured in from the window with ragged, old and stained drapes. Consciousness began to drift back into my body as my eyes opened, feeling the hot warmth of the sun on my face. My legs struggled to get out of bed, tangled in the covers. My sense of direction was faded, and the late morning cool crept around my legs, awakening me a bit more as I walked to the mirror and pulled on my clothes.

I looked at my reflection wearily, rubbing the sand out of my brown eyes as the broken and cracked piece of silver coated glass mimicked me. I widened my eyes to try and get used to being awake, and yawned. Still feeling drowsy, I took the red bandanna I always wore from the uneven and wobbly nightstand and tied it around my head, wrapping around my brown hair. I walked half heartedly across boarded room to struggle with a white T-shirt, my arms entangled in their cotton midst. I uttered a low cry as pain shot through my left side as I stretched out my arms to fix the shirt. I had pulled a muscle from the day before during running since I had been to lazy to warm up first because I had been late to start.

I took a sharp breath and held the pain back. Things like physical pain were only minor, after all. I got completely dressed and was about to head out the door until my mother stopped me. She was a fragile woman, and never afraid to show her feelings and opinions to me. She was small and old, her face completely wrinkled and saggy from age. Her eyes always seemed to be dozing off, her body weak and slow. Her gray hair was long and tied back, giving her a kind of hippy look. She never said much, only questions.

"Going out to exercise again, Eric-chan?" she said in her weak, groggy voice. She cleared her throat as she sensed me open the door to exit the house. She sat solemnly at the living room mat, doing her late morning meditations.

"Yes, mom," I answered directly with nothing but a T-shirt and worn out sweats on, the wooden door handle gripped tightly in my normal sized hands. I gave her back a quiet look, as if I was waiting for something.

"You work too hard, my son," she gave her opinion, still sitting on the mat. Her voice crackled with every word, as if she were struggling to speak. "Just what do you aim for?" she said groggily.

I closed the door to block out the cold breezes that took away the little heat that we had. The wooden door closed with a creak. I sighed and waited as I thought hard for the answer. "I guess…to protect you guys," I said finally and with confession, opening the door wide with a louder creak, and then headed outside, my footsteps wandering away in my mother's ears. Inside, I could tell that my mother smiled a weak grin that she struggled to make, her eyes closed and crinkled.

I walked outside and past the town houses, all made of whatever material the people could find like hay, sticks, sometimes even decaying logs with large holes punctured into them. The pale sun warmed the back of my neck as I walked away from it and toward the forest. The clouds above waved slowly and steadily, snails of the God's will. The ground was dirty and infested with weeds that towered two feet high.

As I was inches away from the forest, I passed by a group of kids my age watching as I walked past. They gave jealous and scoffing smirks, looking down on me in their place on the floor, sitting lazily and wasting their lives. They held pipes and all sorts of street weapons they could find, but did nothing with them. I walked easily past, their presence the last thing on my mind. I just sighed and closed my eyes as I paced along. I soon found myself surrounded by pillaring, thick trees. Their damp state from last night's downpour filled the forest with a natural dew scent that would never wear off. The moist air felt swampy and cool around my body, the sunlit skies filtering through pierced holes in the forest green ceiling above.

I thought as I walked through the towering, wet grass. I thought about things like my future, my life, and my motivation to exercise for most of the day. Where would my future lead? I don't know, but I knew it would involve helping people, that I definitely knew. My life so far was surrounded by all these bad things happening around me, people robbing other people, and the cursing and wasting of lives. I felt like I was the only one who kept myself safe. Even my parents were pressured around by a few other adults. If only my life were as perfect as my appearance, I thought. I was looking really good for just a fourteen year old teenager.

My skin was toned and dark from being out in the sun so much, my body strong and endurable thanks to working out almost twenty four-seven. I was tall and confident, looking like nothing could knock me down. If only everyone knew…

I paced myself through the wet grass some more until I came by the forest's lake near the border of the town. I always kept my equipment there, having differential weights to lift made of carved wood. I had a pole made of rock connecting two adjacent trees for pull-ups that was hung eight feet into the air. More cool and wet air drifted from the lake as I got to work, wearing my plain clothes as I sat on a large rock while I lifted seventy pound weights. I felt my left side shoot up pain all over again, my grip loosening and my hand dropping to the floor. I clutched my left side and winced as I waited for the pain to wear off. I forced it to wear down, trying to wear off the pain mentally. I picked up the weight again from the ground, and tried hard to pick it up, the wooden piece of equipment lifting slowly from the ground. The only reason I struggled to get it up was because my left side immediately began to spread out pain when I even touched the weight. I gave a strained groan as I made on successful lift up, and began to try again.

Pain spread everywhere, but I refused to give up. I wouldn't let something stupid like pain get in the way of anything! I struggled as I made another successful lift, and carried it back down to try again. Three… I began counting. Four…Five…Six…Seven….Eight….Nine…I continued some more, the pain growing continually as time went on. Twenty…Twenty-one…Twenty-two…Twenty-three…

I kept up the painful cries and strained lifting until I hit three-fifty which was only a fraction of what I was supposed to finish. I set the weight heavily onto the ground, the wood rustling in the ground. I winced and began to breathe heavily, my arm feeling completely tired. I began to use my right arm instead, giving a chance for my left arm to rest. I didn't want to give up on it, but I knew that if I had continued, I would be without one arm. I had to use the other arm in the meantime.

About five hours later, I found my left side completely healed and my body perspiring all over. Sweat drizzled down the back of my neck and all over my face, trailing down my chest and back. I breathed heavily, trying to catch my breath, taking in and out the cold, damp air. It was mid afternoon now, and I knew that I should take a longer breather, but I didn't like to waste even the smallest amount of seconds. I sat on the rock as I settled for a seven second breather, and peered tiredly to the lake. It was glimmering with fading sunlight, all kinds of flowers surrounding it. It just happened to be the only beautiful thing in the whole town, and rarely did anyone ever come here.

A few feet away from me, I found something that I usually didn't see around the town. Something I haven't seen in years was laid right in front of my eyes, glimmering in the sunlight with drops of rain shining brightly like distant stars in the fabricant night skies. My eyes widened in bewilderment as I got up and began to walk slowly toward it. Cool air surrounded my perspiring body as I bent down to pick it up from the floor. Feeling its stem made me feel nostalgic, and I suddenly had a flashback:

_I was but a child, about six years old walking with my mother by my side as we paced the forest grass for comfort. "Hm?" I muttered lowly as I spotted something in the midst of our direction. My eyes widened in acknowledgement as I raced forward to pick it up. It was backed up against a tree, like it was afraid. It had a long green and healthy stem, and had flower petals that looked like leaves hanging from the tip of it like big things of hair to humans. The petals were blue with certain streaks of yellow, the blue churning into purple at some points. Some petals were short and stubby, while others were long and hanging. I picked it up in my hand and held it delicately. I stared at it in amazement as it glittered in the sunlight. _

_"What's that you've got there?" my mother's creaking, groggily voice asked, pacing slowly towards me to meet me and the flower in my hands. _

_"What's this thing?" I asked her, holding it up so she could see, a little too close. My eyes were locked on it as if it were the most attractive thing I've seen. _

_She took it in her hands and examined it, her eyes three-fourths closed like she was about to fall asleep or faint or something. "Oh," she uttered a low cry in realization. "This flower is called Iris," she stated in her kind, aging voice that cracked like thunder._

_"Iris?" I asked her, my voice high and childish. _

_"Yes, it's a beautiful flower that grows in the spring, and is said to bring hope to people who spot it full-grown," she told me, her voice actually weakening. She gave a small chuckle before she resumed speaking. "Could you imagine what kind of luck it would bring when it isn't spring?" she asked._

_"No," I said, taking the flower from her greedily in my hands, keeping it all to myself. I had immediately become attached to it and smiled whenever I even looked at it. I held it close to my chest, the beautiful blue petals tickling my nose. "But…what's it doing here?" I asked watching the flower's stem sway slightly in a calming dance with the wind._

_"Maybe it means it'll bring good luck to us. Who knows? Maybe it means we'll finally get to see your father again," she shared in her frog-like voice. She kept her hands behind her back as she smiled at me gracefully, giving a silent chuckle._

_I said nothing and stared back in acknowledgement, not realizing just what looking at this flower could've meant. I stared back at it as it continued its peculiar swaying, smiling thoughtfully. Father…where did you go? I thought, making a wish with the flower on my side, hoping with all my will that I would get to see him again._

Eight years later, I found myself in the forest again during the summer time,

watching the very same type of flower sway with the wind in its place on the ground. Its blue petals were almost as beautiful as the first time I saw it, and it immediately piqued my interest. I smiled nostalgically and got up from the rock, my body suddenly feeling completely rested, I took the flower from its place in the ground delicately, making no noise as the wind began to pick up, as if a sign. I smiled the same way I did when I first held it, and put it against my chest. Sunlight pierced from above through a large hole in the forest ceiling. I decided to go home and show my mother, dropping all my things with the feeling of the least guilt imaginable. I can always exercise later, but for now, for some reason, I feel like I _need_ to shower her this, I thought, smiling as I ran through the forest and into the town, practically rampaging home in happiness.

As I found my house yards away from me, a cloud above seemed to follow me, stalking me. It trailed behind me and covered the sun's light behind it, casting a dark shadow over me and the rest of the town. Something…I thought. Something doesn't feel right…

Small hints of panic began to pierce my heart as I flew the door open, the smile on my face still not worn out. "Mom!" I shouted in happiness. "Look what I found in the forest!" I looked around the room and couldn't find her anywhere. Where was she? "Mom? Where are you?" I uttered lower this time, suspicious. I walked past through the living room as panic took over my emotions little by little, second by the second as time went through its continuous loops.

My deep voice seemed to echo through the room as I walked into the small, moldy kitchen, not seeing her anywhere. Where had she gone? "Mom?" I asked again, my eyes beginning to widen in fear. I practically ran throughout the house in my panic, cool air brushing my perspiration away only to create more. I finally found myself in the midst of her room, trying to find a sign of her. I entered the room quietly as sunlight pierced through it, the doorknob in one hand and the Iris in the other.

I gasped immediately as the door was swung completely open. No… no way… I took in a deep breath as I felt my grip loosen as my eyes widen. The Iris flower fell solemnly to the floor, making its downfall delicate like a leaf's. It plopped to the ground like my fallen hope silently and unnoticeably.

"M…Mother!" I cried out, my eyes disbelieving to what I saw that was laid in front of my very eyes, my mind refusing to believe it. In the room, I found my mother…lying on the wooden floor…lying on her back while silent… and dead.


	38. Chapter 38

I stared in horror, my eyes glistening and hot from the incoming sunlight, my prolonged fear come to life. Sweat consumed my body, and cooled down with panic. I felt my breathing begin to heavy, my legs feeling weak and unable to move. I stared horridly at the old body lying in front of me, its face sunlit, and the expression closed and blank. She looked so graceful, lying there so silently, like an angel that fell from the holily lit clouds of heaven. No… I thought. No angel, no angel at all. Just my dead mother.

I felt like screaming, screaming my lungs out even though I was known for my calm and serious personality.

_"Why do you work so hard?" she had asked me._

_"I guess….to protect you guys."_

To protect you…protect you…protect… the words kept repeating in my mind like a broken record player, giving the realization of my horror and my failure. Protect her? Yeah, right. I've been so busy training myself to be capable of protecting her, I forgot the big picture at the end. And now… now it's too late. But who? Who did this?

I took a big gulp and walked up to her body. Even being around it felt cold and dreadful. I placed my fingers lightly on her neck, trying to see if what I thought was reality. Cold. Just as I thought…there's no denying it now. She was in fact, dead. I felt my legs shiver as my fingers were drawn back. It didn't feel right to touch her skin anymore. It didn't feel right at all. It was just…different. Who could've done such a thing to cause me such pain? I gritted my teeth and clenched my fist by my side. My bare nails dug deep into my skin, causing intense pain that couldn't compare to the open wound in my heart. I tilted my head downwards, feeling no energy or motivation any longer. Shadow enveloped my eyes, my clenched fist growing tighter.

I grit my teeth stronger, the pressure soon becoming overwhelming. A glistening tear that gleamed in the sunlit windows streaked down the side of my face, dangling off my chin, and finally letting go. It made a tiny, wet puddle on the Iris's blue petals, the flower of "hope" or so it was called by my feet, as limp and weak as what it represented. There was no sound to be heard from miles, not even the slight crying of the person left behind. Who…What? I couldn't even get a thought straight out. Why would someone…even think of…? Just why? I don't understand. Was it a test? Was this some kind of test? A test that I have all ready failed? Maybe it is… maybe it's just what life is. A test that everyone fails. Including me. In that case… I turned my back and forced myself to slowly walk, my footsteps shaking and unsteady, as if I were walking on moving sand.

My head still bent down, as if I were shamed, I walked away. Away from everything, everything I've ever known. I set out to start a new life, like erasing the answers on the Scantron, starting from number one. Yeah, that's what I would do. My time limit was as long as I had to live, and this time, starting from the very beginning like writing my name on the underlined top of the paper, I began writing, determined to pass with flying colors.

Four years later, I found myself in the room where most of the Minors were, sitting on that blood red sofa chair, my feelings and thoughts lurking in the past, slowly returning at the pace of a snail. My arms at the chair supporters, I slowly opened my eyes, revealing the serious, and to some scale, angry stare that I always seemed to hold, revealing my beckoning brown eyes. I sighed. Your past is coming to haunt you, Eric, I told myself. But I wonder… I tilted my head slightly to one side and peered to my open hand. A single rising flame rose from it like I was made of it, the lonely flame of grace held within the palm of my hand. The bright fire poured into my eyes, the heat beginning to surround my arm. Am I failing so far? I completed the thought. At the same time, the flame went out, dying away with a fwoosh, nothing but wisps of white smoke rising into the air, only to disappear a second later.

PoVS to Walter

To the other side of the room sat Walter, thinking to himself as well. He observed the Minor who claimed himself Kahibi Eric, giving a narrowed, concealing stare, sealing something away in secretion. What do you hide from us, Eric? Walter thought.

"Looks like your eyes haven't changed," he had told Walter back then. Well, the Water Minor thought. Looks like now, you've got the same eyes as well. The eyes that recognize and filled with acknowledgement of your own pain that you think no one else is there to understand you. Yeah… You're really something Walter thought depressingly. Conversation noise filled the room, pushed to the back of Walter's mind. The weak lights flickered above, soon becoming half dead. Walter sighed. What next?

As if on cue, right away there was a loud crashing was heard and bits of plaster and clouds of dust flew into the room wildly and suddenly, surprising everyone in its midst. A large breeze was let in, and the whole room was consumed with the non clearing haze. Walter was backed up against the opposite side of where it came from, his eyes widening slightly in surprise and preparedness.

The others were totally eaten by it, and suddenly like magic, the dust was blown away by diverging winds. In the center of it all stood Madasora with Zack's arm around his neck, his weak body being supported. His hair was caked with blood as well as his clothes. His eyes were half open and weak, looking like he would fall apart any second. It seemed hard for him to speak, and his feet would drag along the dusty grounds when supported by Madasora. Beside him stood the unharmed council with his pipe put out and his pet bird, Minasan. He smiled maniacally, his expression looking happy and frantic. "Sorry, sorry for the outburst!" he said loudly and wickedly, wearing a wide, awkward smile in a laughing forgiveness. His eyes were closed and crinkled upward, his apology quick paced. Behind them was a large hole that broke into the room, letting in a cool late night breeze in. The room's flickering light poured outside and cast shadows upon the grass. "I was in too much of a hurry to use the door," he explained, still wearing that wide grin that showed his teeth a little too much. He waved his hand in a playful manner, as if saying that it was all right and nothing out of the blue just happened. Around him, the talkative Minors stared with eccentric, wide-eyed expressions. Their mouths hung off their face in an exaggerated manner, and their bodies were limp with awe.

"I heard something crash, what happened!?" a child's voice came into the room. Everyone looked to his direction to find Jeremy standing in the room's doorway that lead to the dim hallway. The ten year old boy quickly scanned the room, and gasped when he saw the half conscious Minor. But the real surprise and shock hit him when he noticed the huge hole in the wall. His expression went completely over exaggerated, his facial features tightening up in shock. "What? The wall!!" he cried out loudly in a voice that flew outside. He began crying with playful tears with his hands gripped on the doorway's sides, as if holding them for support.

Meanwhile, Eric stared in a total chibi like expression, his face loosened with a 'what the hell?' manner.

"Hm?" Madasora mumbled, reopening his eyes, his features returning to normal. "Jeremy-san?" his voice stumbled out, seeing the satiric crying of Jeremy. "You better start healing this guy," he told the ten year old, unacknowledged of Jeremy's playful sadness.

Really… Walter thought, disapprovingly. This guy is an idiot…he piqued, half serious and half playfully.

PoVS

"Are you serious? That's amazing…!" Marissa said, holding a hot cup of tea that streamed white steam into the air. She gripped the green bamboo cup tightly listening to the story of Teresa. The warm aura of the cup made her feel cozy right away.

"Amazing? At least a hundred lives were killed at that hospital incident, all because of me! I don't find that amazing," Teresa said in a rising voice, then calming to a simmer. Her voice suddenly became shy, and she didn't know why. The dim lights gave little light for the scene below it, like a fragment of a failing piece of the sun used for the light.

"Don't stress over it too much," a voice came out of nowhere.

"Hm?" Teresa turned to find Lance, the Metal Minor looking directly at her from his place across the table. Only if you would consider "looking" as crinkled, closed and cheerful looking eyes posed directly at you, though. Teresa gave a confused stare, and blinked once. Her eyes were wide with consideration. He hadn't talked for at least an hour, and just sat there. Now he's saying something?

Lance sighed. "It's obvious you feel like you should do something about the lives you took, because you feel guilty," he explained. Teresa gave an acknowledged blink. How did he know that? Teresa thought in the corner of her mind. Lance gave a slight smirk with his lined smile. "I can tell from the effects you put on your body structure and face. Giving a solemn look while slumping your body is an obvious way of telling someone you're depressed or guilty, or filled with shame."

Teresa looked hard on the floor, a bit embarrassed.

"What's wrong with you?! Why are you getting her all worked up for?" Marissa outburst, standing up from her seat, sending the chair backward with a screech. She put her hands on the table as a sign of power, and looked hard at him with a belittling stare.

Lance finally opened his eyes and stared with cheerful eyes at Marissa, as if he were totally unbothered by the fact that she was getting fumed over him. "Sorry," he apologized.

Marissa's mean look faded away in a second, and she took a sharp and quick breath. Then, she posed a confused look on her face, and then sat back down quietly.

"He's right," Teresa mumbled out a bit reluctantly, lifting her stare a bit more upward to find Lance in her eyes. Lance stared back. Marissa gave a surprised, puzzled look. Teresa got up from her seat and began to walk away solemnly, as if a wandering phantom that lost its sense of direction. She paced back into the hallway's darkness without saying another word, her eyes watering a bit. As soon as she left, Marissa gave a hard stare at Lance, who looked right back, baffled.

"Look what you did," Marissa sighed, falling back to her seat. Lance looked down in shame and thought.

PoVS

Minoa sighed as she walked through the dark, labyrinth like corridors. She looked down as a few strands of hair fell to the front of her face. The pale, gray-white lines were like streaks of blindness blocking her eyesight. She brushed them back with one swish of her hand. It revealed eyes that were saddened and thoughtful.

"What's wrong?" Kakori said, walking side by side with her, his hands stuffed into his long robe's pockets, the stick branch still between his lips, Kakori's mouth playing with it delightfully like his own private toy. They took easy steps by, and Kakori watched Minoa as she stared hard at the dark floor as their shoes clicked on it.

"It's just…" Minoa hesitated. "It's nothing, forget I said anything," she said, looking up to try and get rid of her thoughts. Her attempts failed.

"No, tell me," Kakori insisted. "What's wrong? Maybe I can help you," he said easily.

Minoa laughed hesitantly and tiredly. "Always trying to help others from being sad, huh, Kakori?" Minoa said with a short smile, directing it at Kakori so he could see it clearly. "I bet Dylan is very much the same, always thinking of other people before himself."

Kakori widened his eyes in acknowledgement and smiled back, his grin careful as to not let go of the tree stick. Kakori chuckled under his breath and said, "Yeah, he is." He took a short breath as they turned the next corridor, finding more darkness ahead. Their shoes clicking on the plaster being the only sound heard for miles and miles into the wide, one floor "building." "But that's not important. How can I help you?"

Minoa sighed in a hesitant way and thought about it for a bit. "Well…" she began, unsure. Kakori gave an assuring smirk. "Okay, it's just… Teresa wants to learn how to use Visible Darkness –Mokushi-ankoku- because she killed lots of people by accident the first time Jeremy went after her, and wants to pay off the 'debt' she created by doing the most good she can."

"Right," Kakori followed along, looking straight ahead, paying close attention.

"She knows she has a lot of power, being that her power can be equal to the Base Elemental Powers combined, and even more than that, but she wants to learn how to use Mokushi-ankoku in order to get more power to use it for helping people." Minoa stopped to sigh and take a breath. "But activating its first stage can do some serious physical, not to mention mental damage. It can probably do so much, that the wounds can never be repaired. I just can't risk making her go through that, so I rejected to teach it to her when she asked."

"I see," Kakori said bluntly. "And I suppose you feel guilty for not teaching it to her and letting her down, when she's supposed to look up to you as a Council Counterpart?" Minoa gave a solemn, graceful nod. Kakori laughed.

"What is it? Why are you laughing?" Minoa interrogated, serious.

"Your Minor counterpart is just like you too," Kakori explained, giving a short answer as they turned another corridor.

"What?" Minoa gave a puzzled look. "What's that supposed to mean? She's just like me? How?" she asked frantically.

"She sounds like she just wants to help, but is going overboard with it all. She's taking it too far. She's one of those people who worry too much, and do too much. An over-over achiever if you will," Kakori explained, smiling for assurance. "That's the exact same reason why you're worried about her."

Minoa smiled. "It's nice to know I have a handy therapist at hand, Kakori-san," she told him. "But really," she began, stopping to take a short pause from walking. Kakori followed suit. "The only reason you asked me what I was so worried about in the first place was the exact same reason you just stated, wasn't it?"

Kakori looked at her, baffled in realization. Minoa gave a small laugh and walked away. "Good luck with Dylan," she said, running down the corridor.

Kakori smiled as she slowly became a small figure encrypted into the darkness, wisps of gray which was also known as her hair swinging from one side to the other. "Good luck with Teresa," he wished back, knowing that she heard him as she turned the corner.


	39. Chapter 39

"I feel great!" Zack, said standing up on his feet with a great amount of energy, flashing an intended cool smile. His forehead and arms and many others parts of his body were covered in quick-healing bandages. He held one fist in front of him tightly, a sign of power. His winning smile allowed the cool air coming in from outside seep through his teeth.

"Don't over do it," Madasora sighed, tired. He peered over Zack's shoulder to find the just bandaged wounds. They were getting a bit red, but signs showed that they were going to heal soon.

"So how'd the fight go?" Mark said, rushing up in front of Zack enthusiastically, holding his fists up as a sign of power as well. His always bandaged arms matched with Zack's bandaged body.

Zack hesitated and gave a blank expression, confusing Mark. "How do you think it went? Of course I won!" he said a little too proudly, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, showing a chest full of confidence.

"He failed horribly," Madasora said from the corner, his arms crossed with a "Are you kidding me?" look on his face. He looked a bit embarrassed as well at the humiliation of his Minor Counterpart.

Zack's expression immediately lost all its color, and the deep breath of confidence streamed out of his nose. He slumped his back and looked humiliated, depression marks all over his head as he looked down in shame humorously. "Why'd you have to tell them that?" he said sadly, jerking up his head to reveal comical crying eyes that seemed totally unnatural.

Jeremy gave a nervous look in his corner as he watched them talk, a sweat drop forming down the side of his face. Mark immediately burst out laughing as the rest of the Minors just listened. "You lost? Are you serious?" Mark said, trying to keep his voice steady and keep it from cracking up.

"Yeah, I did lose, so what?" Zack reenergized, standing up straight again and his expression returning to its normal state. "It's not like I'm the only one, am I?" he said, crossing his arms arrogantly.

"Actually…" burst in immediately, his voice unsure and his expression giving a crooked grin.

"What? What is it?" Zack said, his eyes opening wide and his expression unserious. His voice rose as he provoked Jeremy to finish his sentence.

"So far, you _are_ the only one who hasn't won their fight," Jeremy told finally, still unsure whether it was a good idea to tell him.

"Whaaaat?" Zack roared out in surprise. His expression became an amusing shock, and his body pulled back. "No way!" he cried out, denying the truth. "How many are there left fighting?" he interrogated.

"Um… with you here… that would make…" Jeremy painted a thoughtful pose, as if figuring a math equation mentally. "One," he said finally and shortly, closing his eyes indefinitely.

"No waaaaay!" Zack cried out in a screech again. The loud beastlike shriek of his could've broken fifteen eardrums. From different corners, Walter and Eric sighed from their place on the sofa chair. Derek closed his eyes in blasting pain, and Mark jumped backward in shock from the sudden girlish cry. Jeremy widened his eyes and was speechless, and Madasora showed an annoyed look, his eyebrows twitching. "It's not my fault!" Zack pleaded hyperactively. He turned and pointed angrily and accusingly at Madasora. The council looked up in wondering acknowledgement. "It's this guy's! He went all crazy on me with that stupid bird!" he blamed, attempting to wipe away Madasora's vindication.

"What?" Madasora yelled out, half angry with a look on his face that was comical. "It's not my fault you can't even beat a bird in a fight!" he said in the same way.

"You call that thing a bird?" Zack shot back, angry and comical.

"You _just_ called it a bird, you brat!" Madasora accused back, the bird of topic chirping on Madasora's shoulder, tilting its head in different ways, looking bored and unacknowledged of what everyone was talking about. It took one of its stick-like legs and scratched the side of its head, one eye winced like a dog.

As tension began to surround the room, Dylan stood up from his place on the comfortable floor. He stood up seriously, ironic to the positions Zack and Madasora were in. "Excuse me," he said quietly, and walked out of the room, heading into the dark corridors.

Madasora and Zack's arguing calmed to a forgetful simmer, and they both watched as Dylan faded from sight. Zack muttered in wonder. "Was it something we said?" he piqued, his eyes wide with a thoughtful look in them.

"Where's he going?" Madasora wondered, his intention serious.

"Hey," Derek called out, his voice calm. At the sound of his voice, the lights flickered violently above, like the devil's presence had just entered. Everyone looked to his direction as his eyes were closed in tranquility. "Close up that hole in the wall all ready; you're letting in a draft," he said bluntly, returning to his meditative state.

PoVS

Darkness ruled the realm of council, every single hall and corner nullified by an evil creepiness. Along a certain hall, Minoa stood at a certain doorway, half consumed by darkness, and half eaten away by a dim light that shone from the room inside in which she kept an eye on. She smiled as she leaned on the doorway's side, watching her Minor.

Teresa placed herself in the middle of the room, unacknowledged of Minoa's presence. She looked like she was in a trance based state. Purple energy traced around her, and she seemed to be floating in the air, her body hovering a little above the ground with her eyes closed in a meditative state. Force field energy surrounded her and spread out in an expanding circle, and so did a strong, heavy telekinetic energy. The waves of barely stable energies expanded through the room, separating into different corners.

She's exercising her mind and powers, Minoa realized as she felt the air heavy with energy take over her as well. This amount of power at such an early stage… if she keeps this up, she can definitely pay her "debt".

Teresa's energy began to flutter around, the air so filled and strong that it caused the dim ceiling lights to flicker violently, as if attempting a seizure. The energy surrounded her became stronger and stronger as time passed on, and she seemed totally subconscious about it. Dust particles in the room began to float, the telekinesis stronger than the force of gravity. Her straightjacket that she never cared to take off fluttered violently, it's sleeves like snakes that were sealed away and were desperate to get away, trying to find any direction to escape, but never found any.

The intense energy became thicker and thicker until it lightly shaded the color of the breathable air with a bright wave of purple. It soon became overwhelming, and a full force field began to surround Teresa, the powerful purple traced energy looking like a transparent mirror. It made an egg shield around her, and became so intense, bits of plaster from the walls and ground began to float up; tiny and small pieces.

A hint of panic struck Minoa's heart. That energy… it's becoming too thick, she realized. I wonder… can she cause it to become such a high level that even exercising her mind is dangerous to the outside world?

As she finished her first thoughts, inside the force field, the fluttering snakes of her sleeves began to turn red and heat up, and then totally begin to set on purple, mystical flames. The intense violet flares sparked up and almost consumed her arms, looking unnatural. Minoa widened her eyes as she felt alert to get her out of the force field. As her panic grew, so did the flickering flames. They made no sound to hear, but seemed demonic and unreal. She's going to overdrive…! Minoa realized.

I have to stop it, she thought. Minoa took a deep breath in hesitance, and charged in. She came only a few feet away from Teresa until she found herself knocked back, feeling a hard energy knock her in the side of the face, blowing her out of the room. She struggled to get up with a grunt, the side of her face feeling weak. I can't get close, she realized. Damn it! She finally got back to her feet, and peered into the raging flames and energy. It's getting to such an immense level… it's even disturbing the air around it. I have no time! I'll have to use that…

Minoa sighed and closed her eyes in concentration. When she reopened them, she let out a short battle cry as pentacles came into her eyes. Let's hope this works without her getting too wounded, Minoa thought. Minoa stared hard at Teresa, the angelic looking destructor.

Gekido no…Shinkouteki! Minoa thought, feeling her eyes burn with intense power.

Note: Gekido no Shinkouteki is translated as Rage of Spirit

Taken to another parallel time limit, Teresa and her egg shaped force field were set on a large pentacle, like it were a panel of a sort. The pentacle glowed in the darkness with blue neon, tracing light. All original light was taken out, and demonic fire spread from the corners of the magical star. They stopped in their tracks, and connected with each other, making a small circle of fire surrounding the shield. Then, they streaked up into the air like missiles, finding each other a little overhead of Teresa, who still seemed unconscious in her trance. The five streaks of blue demon fire created a small sphere, something like a hitodama. That moment, millions and millions of differentiating energies came out like large fireballs, holding punctured expression on their faces, some angry with vengeance and some sad with despair. All in one, they streamed down like vicious missiles at the force field and cracked it open. The crack grew as more came out and dived right in until the whole thing fell apart like glass. The last few dove into Teresa herself, finally waking her up.

She stumbled in the air with a shocking alert, the pentacle and blue fire disappearing, returning Teresa back to the Inner World. Her eyes opened as if she had just woken up, and she opened her mouth, breathless and speechless. All of a sudden, as if all together, she was knocked back by some invisible force that crashed with her into the wall, slamming her body hard against it.

Using bare effort to use that attack that lasted for nothing but a second of time's worth, Minoa closed her eyes calmly, and reopened them to invite more humanized eyes easily without a struggle. She quickly ran into the room, feeling the energy quickly dissolving into nothing but air again. The telekinesis energy is wearing off, she realized. She came to Teresa's side and took a look at her arms. She rolled up the sleeves quickly, and looked at each arm. Both were unharmed. Only the sleeves were scared with strange, unnatural cuts. Teresa had her eyes closed once again, until she began stirring and slowly, her consciousness rushed back into her all at once.

"Wha…What…?" she mumbled out, her focus out of stability. "My arm… it feels broken," she said quietly. Minoa took a big gulp and couldn't decide what to do; she was finally lost in her own decisions for once.

PoVS

"What is it?" Kakori said as Dylan found him in a dark room. Kakori had been comfortably sitting there, thinking to himself in that dark room until Dylan had come in and interrupted.

"I need to talk to you about something," Dylan said seriously, his tone dead.

Kakori realized the seriousness and urgency in his voice and mumbled out quickly, "It's not like you to sound like that, Dylan. Tell me what's wrong."

Dylan solemnly walked into the room, and sat down on the table across from Kakori. He kept his body to himself; his back slouched in the metal seat. Kakori looked rather comfortable, his arms set on the table. "Jeremy…" Dylan said quietly, his eyes completely enveloped in shadow, hiding his expression. Dylan took a big gulp.

"Jeremy? What about him?" Kakori asked, a new thought popping into his mind.

Dylan, inside his seat, shifted slightly. He thought about back then, when he first met Jeremy, creating that huge hole that tore apart that girl's body. He thought back to the time when they were experiencing Teresa's first outburst of energy, Tsukansu knocking Jeremy out in order to bring a huge black hole that would suck in the expanding force field. He remembered that time in the forest, when Jeremy had the major breakdown of uncomfortable feelings, his nose pouring out blood like a faucet.

"He's not normal… is he?" Dylan finally stated, finally confronting them. "You're keeping something from him… and us, aren't you !" Dylan said, his voice rising like an intense wave. He jerked his head up to reveal and angry expression with beckoning, pleading eyes that felt like they were about to crash and burn, wanting to pour out tears like a depressing, rainy day.

Kakori widened his eyes at first, and then looked hard at the table and sighed. He didn't make direct eye contact with Dylan. "I…" he began. He left his mouth hanging, trying to get the words out, trying to find them in his mind, his throat, his stomach, anywhere, but they were nowhere to be found. He closed his mouth in return, unable to finish the sentence.

"Tell me. What do you guys know that we don't know? Why does he get so uncomfortable in the desert, and why does he create black holes out of nowhere, huh?!" he provoked, shouting now. He stood up from his seat and pushed the chair back with a screech, then slammed his fists against the table, the wooden table shaking violently in reaction.

Now, Kakori was the one to look down and hide his expression in shadow. The darkness surrounding them seemed to creep closer and wrap around them, the flickering lights buzzing slightly, the only thing that could be heard for miles. "That… is something we don't totally know yet." Dylan posed a look on his face, one that easily told anyone that he wasn't buying whatever lies Kakori was telling.

"But even if we did know, if we ever had the guts to tell you….we'd have to kill you."

Dylan widened his eyes in shock, his expression frozen in confusion and fear. He felt like he couldn't move anymore, like his body had been totally frozen, like time had petrified this scene into nothing but a trapped snapshot of its own memory.

PoVS

The ice pieces finally stopped clattering and the dust and mist began clearing. What now? Hyoumaru thought, peering hard into the smoke. The moon was just about to set, it's crescent state dying away into nothing but a half horn that struck right through the cold, raw glacier like nothing.

The night skies were completely empty now, the tiny specks of stars dying in their fantasy light. The wind began to pick up, the calm gusts chilling to the bone. The slow ocean rocked below, and soon came the scene of Kenneth Takiato.

Kenneth, his back slouched and on his knees, had tons of ice shards struck through his back, blood leaking out. He looked up with eyes of an angry, despaired demon. They were wide with no fear, but something else that Hyoumaru couldn't decipher. He had an evil look in his eyes, one of despair and a thirst for revenge. It didn't look like his regular self. It looked like he had been possessed. Sky Blue energy poured around him like an aura, releasing strong amounts of it into the air.

This heavy oxygen… and that look in his eyes… there's no way that he's actually…? Hyoumaru thought, not deciding on whether he should be scared or confident.

The aura around Kenneth formed large wings like a bird totally made of the energy, and created a long tail of it as well. His head was molded with energy that narrowed, making a sort of bird like appearance. The essence of murder was caught in Kenneth's eyes as he stared hard and wide-eyed at Hyoumaru, his look unnatural and demonic. Hyoumaru was sure now of what had happened to him. This time… I might actually have to kill him, he realized as the cold thickened, becoming numbing even to the master of cold and ice.


	40. Chapter 40

The pale moon was almost eaten away by the deep sky's darkness. It was cut by the glacial horizon, cold, frosty air surrounding every aspect of the suspenseful scene. The glacier top was filled with frothy, subzero air and painted with the shade of reflective moon and starlight, yet still dark in ebony.

Yards away from Hyoumaru, his power representative robes swaying lightly with the rising wind, as if being swept away was Takiato Kenneth, the Ice Minor. He lay on the icy floor as if four-legged, his hands and feet bent on the cold, uneasy grounds. Bright blue energy completely enveloped him, visible in the midnight darkness, yet transparent enough for visibility in the Minor's human presence. The energy surrounded him and created a bird shaped like cage, as if he were inside it. The energy sprout wings made of itself, looking like magic blue fire burning in the air. Kenneth's expression tightened and his face seemed uneasy. His eyes were piercing and demonic, his teeth grit tightly, showing like a ravenous hunger, his body pouring out the energy constantly like an active volcano.

Energy is coming out of him at a constant rate, even if it is a slow and small one, Hyoumaru observed. But even so, I'm surprised he could reach this level of power at just a beginning stage. Maybe it was White Cloak's doing after all… I guess he just wanted more power to absorb when he got to them. That's him all right, always taking risks just for power. I have nothing to worry about yet, though. I'll just end it right now.

Kenneth growled horridly, as if he were turning into a beast. His eyes glowed like a million neon signs beaming at once. His gritted teeth began shaking from such a strong hold. His "wings" fluttered violently, dusting away cold air as it crept closer to him, always trying but never succeeding.

Hyoumaru fixed his stance, and closed his eyes. The wind began to pick up almost immediately, and cold, frothy mist began to surround him out of nowhere, wrapping around him like a scarf of numbing cold. Hyoumaru felt the temperatures drop dramatically, almost reaching zero Kelvin. Above, clouds began forming, churning violently like snakes bodies creating an arc of cold mist. Below the glacier where the ocean rocked viciously, it slowly began to slump its pace and freeze into ice crystals, creating an ice patch for the glacier to sit on.

Kenneth waited in his still position, the thick ice shards of different shapes stuck onto his back, blood leaking out like tiny streaks of a river, black red soaking his clothes, churning with the hot sky blue energy. He stared as a second later, it began to drizzle. The lining drops of water lasted a nanosecond before turning into snow. The snow stopped soon as well, and turned into crazed hail. The wind picked up violently, the chill factor unbearable and raw. The huge ice pellets of hail rained down, crashing onto the glacier and the ocean below like massive boulders, the sound of plopping ocean water being able to be heard even from the top of the glacier.

The mist around Hyoumaru diverged away, the wind swirling around everyone and everything like a pre-blizzard. The ice dove down so quickly all at once, that it was almost blinding. They came downward with the attempt of murder, striving to kill someone.

Kenneth growled loudly in challenge, his human consciousness half gone. As seconds passed, the crashing ice grew thicker and thicker, until the point where they were visible rocks falling from the sky to the human eye. Although they flew in every direction in every single way, they never came in contact with Hyoumaru.

This is it, Hyoumaru thought, his hair swinging wildly, whipping in the air murderously, and his eyes squinting to see through the falling maelstrom of frost. As if on cue, a titanic boulder of ice – at least ten feet in diameter came soaring from the sky, diving down quickly like a meteor, pinpointing Kenneth's precise, direct spot. Kenneth growled in acceptance to the challenge, and his wings began fluttering horridly, his body hovering above the floor just as the ice meteor crashed with a horrid shatter, dust flying everywhere and ice shards fired crazily. As soon as the pooling cloud of dust cleared, the icy dust clearing almost immediately, Kenneth was found lying on his back in a pool of his own blood, tens of ice shards struck through his chest. Luckily, there were none through his heart. His wrapping energy had faded away, and his eyes were closed in unawareness. The hail seemed to calm down afterward, calming to a light snow that pooled on Hyoumaru's hair.

The council sighed. He walked slowly up to the Minor, and picked him up in his arms. Blood began to stream down and cake his hands, but he didn't care for anything like that. "Time to go back," he concluded, flash speeding away, leaving behind the glacier arena, the moon just about set, only a sliver of its crescent smile remaining.

PoVS

Tsukansu found himself standing in the midst of a room's darkness, facing an entire monument of memories that had been locked away fro so long. He sighed in nostalgia and closed his eyes to relax. He stared at the small cabinet like closet, the darkness and deviant orange surrounding it, giving its ancient look. For some reason, the Water Council hesitated. He grinned a crooked smile of non assurance, his arms resisting to obey command.

I'd never thought I'd find myself in this room again, he thought. Never even thought about seeing these again. He stared solemnly at the dimmed plaster cabinet, the material that everything in this dimension seemed to be made of. He gulped a semi nervous knot inhis throat that never seemed to go away. It was almost like a friend, if you could call something that annoyed you the most a friend. It would always come up as a sign of nervousness, to make Tsukansu realize his emotions in a state of confusion and cloud mindedness. He sighed another dreadful sigh and placed his hands on the moldy handles of the closet, gripping tightly around them, ready to open them up.

Come on, he pleaded himself. It's not like opening them is going to make a difference. It's not like opening this closet is going to open a black hole that's going to consume everything. That kind of thing might only happen if I don't open it. So what's wrong? Why do I resist so much to open this closet? His grip grew tighter and tighter, until he felt the narrow handles dig deep into the palm of his hands, cutting into his skin li9ke an essential knife. The darkness seemed to grow thicker and thicker as Tsukansu hesitated more and more. The knot in his throat came back, and he tried to swallow it back down, forcing it to be locked away in the depths of his empty stomach.

"What're you doing?" came a serious, deep and calm voice. Tsukansu's eyes widened in surprise. His grip grew accidentally tighter around the handles of the plaster, almost breaking the whole thing off. He took a sharp and silent breath through his nostrils, and calmed as he let it out through its entrance. He closed his eyes to calm himself further, and recognized the voice completely.

"Hibiyomi, huh?" he retorted seriously as well, his begging brown eyes covered beneath his secretive eyelids.

To a distant wall of the room stood Hibiyomi, his arms crossed in front of him and his back up against the dim orange wall. His large, gray and inhuman eyes were piercing in the deep darkness that seemed to never end, his presence looking comfortable in the current surroundings. No light source gave into the room, yet you could still see a bit thanks to the adjustment to the darkness of your eyes. Hibiyomi stared into space as he paid close attention to Tsukansu, wrapping his accusing stare around him.

Tsukansu, still in his uncomfortable position smiled in acknowledgement. He didn't turn around to look at Hibiyomi, and loosened the grip on the plaster, his hold almost disappearing completely. Hibiyomi peered to the corners of his eyes, still waiting for an answer.

"Hmph," Tsukansu smirked. He had yet to turn around and face Hibiyomi as he talked. He just kept his head bowed down on the floor, as if he were ashamed of some sort. He kept one hand on one of the closet handles as he said, "Always asking questions you know the answer to, isn't that right, Hibiyomi?"

Hibiyomi stared in silence, being that there is no need of answer. His shadowy cover concealed his identity, not taken off for at least five hundred years. "Considering how things are feeling like they are going to become more intense," Tsukansu continued, his fingers now playing with the handle in nostalgia mixed in with boredom. "And more mysterious, it had recently come across me… that I might need them again someday."

Hibiyomi stared solemnly for a minute, and replied deeply, "Oh?" without much enthusiasm, his expression blank as always, his arms still crossed in front of him. With every single word spoken, the darkness seemed to wrap around stronger and stronger.

"Don't tell me you don't know all ready," Tsukansu said, a little more mean that he meant, but still plain and blunt with the answer. He picked up his head in acknowledgement, staring hard and blankly at the cabinet doors that would lead to something he hasn't even seen in over five hundred years. The two solemn councils have yet waited to make eye contact with each other, even if it were to be a moment.

Tsukansu sighed a deep sigh that filled the whole room, and took his other hand and gripped it around the other handle, tightening his hold around them, feeling the plaster dig into his skin again. With a bit of hesitation and a lot of nostalgia, he turned the handles to divergent sides, and pulled the doors open. They pulled apart gracefully and with a loud, aged creak. The opening of the closet let out an ancient, strong stench that immediately filled Tsukansu's nostrils, enveloping him in more memories. The old stench spread out, a mature one that grew over the years and was held in like an imprisoned substance, but now, finally having a chance to be free, it took it's once in a lifetime opportunity, and swam through the air properly.

Hibiyomi let his hands fall back down to his sides and stared hard into the deeper darkness inside the closet, finding two figures silhouetted against the ebony. "So, have you noticed it, Hibiyomi?" he said solemnly. He took the two objects from the sea of darkness, and they clicked in return as he held the two by the handle, then crossed them scissor like, their long shafts easy to handle. Feeling the two things in his hands again felt so invigorating, so new to him, even if he had been through benevolence and blood with it almost all his life. They gave a familiar feeling to him, and made him feel complete, even more confident. "A major reason I finally pulled these out was the fact of the difference we found recently in White Cloak's voice."

Hibiyomi stared halfheartedly, the other half acknowledged. "The other reason being…" Tsukansu continued.

"I know," Hibiyomi said dully. He shamed his head and tilted it downward, his arms still crossed in a tough manner. He closed his eyes in ancient realization and repeated, "I know."

PoVS

In another dark room along the mysterious corridors that hid some kind of secretion, Teresa lay in her bed, Minoa at her side sitting on a wooden chair, staring hard at the sixteen year old girl, and thinking of how much the Minor reminded her of herself back then. Her eyes were closed gracefully, lost in a paralleled trance from another universe. They were lost, and her eyelids were waiting for their return. Darkness consumed the room entirely, eating away every aspect of visibility.

Teresa lay with the covers up to her chest gracefully, sleeping heavenly like an angel. As soon as she began stirring, Minoa took notice. Teresa shifted around, her arms waving around the white sheets, her hair scrambled across the pillow beneath her head. Slowly, her eyes returned, half opening at first, then closing in awakening, but then reopening in enlightenment. She began to build a more steady and noticeable breathing pattern that could be heard from miles in the silent darkness as she looked around to find Minoa by her side.

"Wh…Where am I?" she said, her eyes barely open and her entire body feeling weak, her lips closed gracefully. She ran her fingers through her purple hair by her side, feeling them just for the sole purpose of comfort.

"You hurt yourself while you were training yourself. I had to stop you," Minoa said, brushing her arm against Teresa's feeling the thin, soft skin under the sheets.

"Oh," she said, peering away from Minoa and staring into the ceiling in thought. Her expression remained solemn, and she closed her violet eyes, hiding her obvious thoughts. "I see," she said quietly, almost in a whisper. "So I'm that kinds of person now, aren't I?"

"What – What do you mean, Teresa-san?" Minoa said comfortably, attempting to be her therapist at the moment.

"I'm totally useless, aren't I? That's how I am, no matter how hard I try, right?" she said in a clam voice, sadness consuming her words, her eyes beginning to glimmer in the nonexistent light. "No matter how hard I strive to pay off that debt, I can't ever succeed, can I not?"

Minoa let out a choked gasp in realization and acknowledgement. "I can't manage to use the first level of Visible Darkness, and I can't even train without almost killing myself. I'm completely useless… I'll never cure the burden I seem to always carry on my back as I climb up life's mountain. I'll never reach the top, will I?"

Minoa didn't know what to say. She was completely speechless. All she did was look down in shame for not realizing how Teresa would feel after she had woken up earlier. "That snowy, chilly top of the mountain with the fresh smell and comfort… I'll never get to that, will I?" Teresa concluded finally, a single tear streaking down the side of her face, her eyes glimmering brightly with water. Her expression began to shake a bit, but she held the tears and sadness back, the sense of failure completely overtaking.

"No," Minoa said, her head still bowed down in apparent shame. Teresa sniffed and looked at Minoa's dangling hair with watery, red creeping eyes.

"What…?" Teresa said, revealing overwhelmed teeth, flashing a non purposed smile.

"Don't give up just yet. Just because you failed at one thing one time doesn't mean you have to give up your goal completely," she advised with confidence, slowly tilting her head back up. "I understand how you feel, and I promise I won't let you down in your next training. You'll be surprised about what we have in store for you guys. All you have to do is try your best. Don't give up hope, or everything is lost, you got that?" she said finally, clenching her fist tightly by her side.

"Yes," Teresa said forcefully, giving a short and meaningless smile. She's right but… Teresa pondered. I don't know if it's so easy to find what I've lost anymore…


	41. Chapter 41

The chilling breeze that came through the open hole soon became numbing. It would be morning in only in a matter of hours, yet the air was piercing with frost. It filled the whole room while no one cared to fix it, no matter how many complained. Everyone sat around in an unfixed circle, bored with nothing to say or do.

The dim ceiling lights grew somewhat strong, and stopped flickering. Its pale light spilled all over the room, mixing in with the malevolent touch of the icy cold.

Daniel sat uncomfortably in a chair, shifting his movements, unable to find a position best fit for him. His face was locked in worry as he twiddled his thumbs in anxiety. The room is getting too cold…he thought, trying to distract himself. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help worrying. Brother…you're taking too long… where are you? He thought, desperate for his brother, the Ice Minor to come back.

As if on cue to the Daniel's thoughts, a figure came out of nowhere and appeared in the room – holding another figure. Everyone jerked up their heads to find Hyoumaru, holding Kenneth's weak and unconscious body in his arms. It felt a bit heavy to him, but was still able to come quickly back to the Inner Area as quickly as possible. Blood caked various parts of Kenneth, as well as Hyoumaru's fingers. The Ice Minor had his eyes closed solemnly, as if he were put to sleep. Hyoumaru had an expression of seriousness painted across his face.

Daniel looked up and fear consumed his eyes, leaving his mouth wide open and disbelief. His look was easily distinguished from everyone else's. Nii-san…? He thought, his voice unable to work. The numbness was completely ignored by the rest of his body now. The color drained away and he felt like he couldn't move. He saw his brother's face, limp and unmoving. The utter shock was so sudden, it caught Daniel's voice.

"Nii-san!" Daniel finally managed to choke out. He got up from his chair almost immediately, his body parts feeling like they could move again. Daniel was caught up in hysteria, taking his brother's weak arm that gave no sense of life. "Nii-san!" he cried out again, Daniel's spectacled eyes glimmering in the bright ceiling light. "Is he okay? Tell me that he's okay!" Daniel said, looking up to Hyoumaru who stared back a sympathetic look.

The Ice Council sighed a big, deep sigh as he closed his eyes, a sign telling everyone in the room to relax their surprised and worried expressions and just listen. "He took a lot of damage during our fight. I would say he's in a life threatening condition right now. I have to get him out of here and into a medical room," he said bluntly, getting straight to the point. Daniel's expression stressed even more. His breath got caught with his voice, and a huge knot formed in his chest, stopping his breathing. His eyes were widened and shining with tears, his mouth wide open in disbelief. Was he about to lose the only real friend he had since childhood? Just thinking about it made him cry. Please nii-san… Daniel pleaded in his mind, tilting his head to stare hard at the floor, two consecutive tears dropping to the plaster ground. Please…don't die.

"I'm sorry," Hyoumaru apologized, his sympathetic look seemingly locked onto his expression.

"It's okay, just… get him out of here," Daniel pleaded, his voice shaking slightly, a few sniffs here and there. Daniel clenched his fist tightly by his side, not wanting to give up, but feeling like he had to. Hyoumaru nodded with acknowledgement and disappeared from the room, following Daniel's request.

"Hey," Rick's voice came from the other side of the room. The blonde stood up weakly, his legs struggling from tiredness. He was forced to take a deep breath as he began to pace towards Daniel, who didn't show any signs of acknowledging Rick's presence. "It's okay, I'm sure your brother will be all right."

At the sound of his words, Daniel began to cry even more. "Who…who are you to tell me my brother's all right? You…you don't even know me well enough. How…how could give advice to someone you have no idea on how he feels, huh?!" Daniel said with a rising, cracking voice, his tears no longer being able to be held back. They came down in flashing streaks, filling the plaster ground with dark toned, perfectly circular puddles

Slowly, Daniel rose one hand to his head and carefully took off his glasses. He took his shirt from the bottom and began wiping the wet tears off of them. He sniffed as he closed them and pout them away in his pocket.

"I can empathize," Rick said, putting a sympathetic look as well. From the corner of the room Walter stared hard and unsympathetically, thinking a secretive thought in the back of his mind. Eric closed his eyes as if wishing for something, or trying to fall asleep.

Derek looked solemn, cross-legged on the floor with his eyes shut in a meditative state. Zack gave a huge sigh and smiled a wide grin. "At least now I know I'm not the only one who lost my match!" he said, putting his hands behind his head in a carefree manner, smiling a happy grin of idiocy. "So I'm not the most powerless after all!"

Daniel's expression went grim as he jerked his head back up slowly, his bodily functions ready to return. "Power…?" he mumbled with hints of anger. Zack gave a puzzled look as his grin wore off. "Power has nothing to do with this! Why are you caring about your stupid pride when someone right by you is feeling a tremendous amount of anxiety and pain? Huh?!" he demanded loudly, revealing his face without his glasses, which took others a while for them to get used to.

Zack gave another puzzled look, and shut his mouth tight in a bit of acknowledgement. His eyes showed that he was a bit sorry for acting so foolish and immature.

"You're wrong," came a new voice. Daniel took a sharp gasp and quickly turned to find Walter sitting comfortably with his eyes closed in seemingly tranquility.

"What?" Daniel demanded, feeling his tension and anger rise up now.

"Power has everything to do with it," Walter said softly and deeply like Hibiyomi's tone of voice. He got up from his chair and began walking into the dark hallway, his body soon consumed by the darkness. "It's the only way we can resist pain," Walter concluded, his footsteps echoing through the halls, fading away slowly and steadily from the group. Daniel painted a sad expression and stared back to the floor, taking his glasses out slowly and putting them back on, not knowing what came next. Everyone else looked to the doorway where Walter had left, wondering where he had gone.

"That's enough for now," came a newer voice into the room. Everyone turned to a different doorway that lead inside, and found Shintenmaru at the doorway, his glasses glimmering brightly, reflecting off light that concealed his eyes. Everyone waited for him to explain as Daniel listened halfheartedly, still thinking anxious thoughts through his mind. "You guys did well in the paired matches," Shintenmaru began to explain.

Daniel scoffed. Shintenmaru disregarded it. He cleared his throat and continued explaining, "You guys can get a few days off for rest as long as you want to recover injuries and to get to know each other, and your own powers. Just don't take too long. We think there's a possibility that this whole thing we're going through now could lead to the end of the world, so don't waste time."

"End of the world? Are you kidding me? Are you just being cliché now or are you being serious?" Zack grunted loudly, speaking for everyone's thoughts without realizing it.

Shintenmaru cleared his throat again as well. "Did you just not pay attention when Tsukansu informed you of the current situation, Zack-san?" Shintenmaru piqued.

Zack slowly muttered out a "no…" with a comical facial expression on of stupidity. "Anyway," Shintenmaru continued. "After your short break, we'll resume training."

"What!?" Zack said with a loud, comical screech. His facial expression widened to such a scale it filled the whole room. "No way!" he cried out in hysteria, his head returning to normal size, humorous tears falling from his face. "I think I'm going to die…" he muttered jokingly.

Shintenmaru sighed. "If you kill him…" Daniel's voice came out from the other side of the room clearly and seriously. Shintenmaru had his interest piqued and listened carefully along with the others in the room. "If you kill my brother…I won't forgive you. Understand?" Shintenmaru gave a solemn look.

"Yes, I get it," the Life Council said empathically.

"I don't care who you are. If you ever harm my brother so much to the point that he can't even move one body part, I'll track you down and do the same thing to you as you did to him."

"I give you permission to do so," Shintenmaru muttered quietly.

Daniel scoffed. He got up from his seat in sadness and depression, and then began to walk away just like Walter did. "Anyway," Shintenmaru said, returning to the topic of conversation. "Don't stress too much about it. We're not going to be the ones you're fighting anyway,"

"Huh?" Zack made a puzzled stare in unison with everyone else in the room. "What do you mean? Who are we fighting then?" he said, speaking for everyone's thoughts.

Shintenmaru smiled at the sound of the question mysteriously. Everyone became even more baffled in their minds as to what the answer was. "Even I can't answer that," was all he said as a reply.

Behind Shintenmaru, Raikettei came into the room and cleared his throat to catch his attention. "I need you talk to you for a minute, Shintenmaru-san," he said formally.

"Understood," the Life Council replied, walking back to the next room with Shintenmaru. Everyone was left in the room to ponder on what comes next, but none of them got even close to what would happen to them in the near future.

"I think I'm going to kill myself," Zack said in disbelief, his face looking idiotic to any mature person.

PoVS

"So I see the Minors are informed of the next task," Raikettei said as Shintenmaru followed him into a dim room away from the Minors so they couldn't hear their conversation.

"Not really. I just told them that something would be next. But not really what," Shintenmaru replied, motioning his arm to add enthusiasm.

"I see," Raikettei said, brushing his hand against the smooth surface of his bald head. He gave a loud sigh as they stopped in the darkness and just talked for a while. "Shintenmaru, I'm worried for them. What if they can't handle what they have to deal with? What if they even die?" he said seriously.

"Don't worry," Shintenmaru said without assurance. "They have to do it. If they don't, then White Cloak will get to them anyway. It's a risk worth taking."

"Yes, but… sending them to a place like that…" Raikettei piqued, unable to call out the name of the place since it brought back so many horrid memories not worth remembering.

"Don't worry. They're Minors, and with their power limit increased by White Cloak, I'm sure they'll do fine. Maybe only small scratches on them when they come out."

"White Cloak raised their power limits? Why would he do that?" Raikettei said, not up to date with what was happening. He brushed his hand against the smooth skin of his head again as a nervous habit.

"I'm not sure, but I guess he wanted all the more power to take in when he finally got to them. Such insolence will be forgotten in the future, though," Shintenmaru explained.

"I see," Raikettei retorted, sighing nervously instead of brushing his hand against his bald head this time.

Moments later, Shintenmaru found himself in the room with the other Minors again, the teenage boys staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "It's nearing morning. You guys should at least get some sleep," Shintenmaru insisted. "Find any room you want with a bed. Just make sure you don't get lost."

"No, I think it's all right. I'm not that sleepy anyway," Zack said, yawning without realizing it in his own idiocy.

"That wasn't a suggestion," Shintenmaru said seriously. "It was a command."

Zack took a big gulp of nervousness and muttered in a cracking way, "O…Okay."

A half hour later, Walter found himself in his room writing in his philosophy journal. He hadn't updated it in a long time, but these new thoughts just rushed into his head so many times that he felt it was a necessity to write them all down. He had all ready picked his room, which wasn't that big. He didn't care, it was just a material thing, and Walter knew that when it came down to it, material things didn't matter. He couldn't find a pen so he was forced to use one of those old, Japanese style ink brushes that were lying around with a small cauldron of ink in the room's desk.

Darkness surrounded him as he wrote smoothly, able to clearly see what was written. He poured all his thoughts out on paper, which took a long time. He sighed as he finished the last few words, and thought, Even thought there's still more training to come, somehow, I feel like more pain is coming my way. Utopia has yet to be found. So I guess, when it comes down to it, life is just a form of slow suicide. A pointless period before death, as one might say it.

Suddenly, interrupting his thoughts, there was a knock on the door. He quickly stuffed the ink brush in the middle of the thin notebook and closed it, then let it lay there untouched. He got up from the wooden chair with a screech as he pushed it back, and answered the door. Another knock came as he walked towards it, the loud and dead echoing of the noise against the door almost unbearable.

Walter opened the door quickly to prevent any further knocking and found Marissa, the beautiful blonde-brunette girl at his doorway giving a friendly stare. Walter returned the stare with an icy, unwelcoming one. "Hi," she greeted friendlily.

Walter just looked at her with an icy, unthawing stare, as if asking what she wanted. "Um…" Marissa said nervously. "Well, I came here to actually talk to you because you're one of the few people I didn't get to meet today, so I was just wondering… if we could get to know each other."

Walter sighed. "How so?" he muttered quietly and seriously.

"Well, why don't we start with your childhood?" Marissa suggested with a smile, trying hard to make friends with him. Walter's eyes just weren't housewarming enough. He kept his grip on the doorknob tight, as if ready to close it any second.

"My childhood?" Walter asked. The Water Minor sighed a deep depressing sigh, and said, "There's not much about my childhood that concerns you," he piqued. "Making a connection and this point would be useless. Not to mention the threat of pain."

"What?" Marissa asked, giving an unserious, comical stare of confusion. Her face was filled with an unsolved enigma as Walter stared hard, not replying her.

"Nothing," Walter said with a sigh. He let go of his grip on the doorknob and walked back to the desk where the journal was. He took it in his hands and opened the desk drawer, then threw it in there until the next time he needed it. "I'm sorry," he apologized, his back turned to her. He walked up to her again and put his hand tight on the doorknob, the warm metal feeling somewhat relaxing to his subconscious mind. "I don't want to cause you pain," he said, trying to sound as nice as he could. He closed the door slowly between the two Minors, cutting the bonding link that was made just now. Now, both sides were enveloped in darkness, one side confused and the other one left alone, said to be alone with his thoughts.

PoVS

Teresa sat up in bed with the sheets around her, all messy and unraveled. Her long straightjacket sleeves that she never took off covered her arms, but she didn't mind. She brushed her hair away from her face and stared hard at the dark ceiling above. Only bits and pieces of it were visible to her, and she envisioned the pentacle from the Visible Darkness eyes spinning freely on the ceiling, looking all powerful and ready to do its job. Every ninety-seven generations, huh? Teresa thought, picturing the five sided star spinning faster and faster. Teresa remembered the words Minoa had told her when they were outside during the day:

_"Now, get rid of that weakness in your state of mind. It is only because of your mind without assurance of who you really are that you've become like this. You're not crazy," she said, looking mighty compared to Teresa, who was wrapped in a constricting whip made of force field energy, struggling to get out._

Back to reality, Teresa sighed. So that's who I am…I'm really not crazy…am I? Just what am I here for? What am I supposed to be doing in my life? Teresa thought hard about it as she opened her hand, a sphere of force field energy forming, telekinetic energy locked up inside it. It gave off a slight hum and spinning noise as it was twirled in her hand. All I keep thinking about is paying off my debt, and it seems to be nothing else. Teresa sighed again. I guess no one knows what the answer to that is, she thought finally, falling on her back to lay comfortably in bed. She watched the pictured pentacle stop spinning and disappear from her imagination. Those eyes… will I be strong enough to achieve them, so I could use them… to pay my end of the deal? She thought, not even knowing the answer to her own question.

As she constantly looked for the answer to that, she felt her eyes begin to heavy, and her consciousness lose focus. Her eyelids slowly closed, weighing a hundred tons, and finally, she began to feel herself drift slowly away to sleep…


	42. Chapter 42

Slowly, Zack began to stir in bed with slight motions, moving a finger here and there, turning his head on the soft, white pillow. He groaned in lethargy, feeling his consciousness layer on top of him, as if playing his body amusingly. His conscious shifted and wavered into his body, getting his mind pumped up until he realized where he was and achieved focus. He woke up with a gasp, feeling the fresh air fill his body, only bringing him closer back to earth from the land of his own dreams. He opened his eyes slowly, his eyelids still weighing ten tons from the long snooze. What time was it? was his first thought. Was it morning? Was it still night? He couldn't tell. But for some reason, he felt like it was morning.

Overtime sand filled eyes made them more resistant to keep open, but he knew that if he ever shut them, he would immediately go back to sleep and not wake up again for another five hours or so. Zack thought back to what happened before he went to sleep. His arms felt less sore from being cut with the wind, and a bandage patch clung to the side of his face, like a kind of leech that healed you. He remembered Daniel and his sudden change in attitude when Hyoumaru entered the room with his brother's weak, unconscious body.

. "_If you kill him…" Daniel's voice came out from the other side of the room clearly and seriously. Shintenmaru had his interest piqued and listened carefully along with the others in the room. "If you kill my brother…I won't forgive you. Understand?" Shintenmaru gave a solemn look._

Daniel had said these words to Shintenmaru, a promise he seemed like he was willing to keep. He had gripped his fists so tight then, he had been in so much anxiety and anger, so much pain and thoughtlessness. I should've imagined how he felt, Zack realized in guilt. I should have understood, instead of caring for my own glory.

_"I don't care who you are. If you ever harm my brother so much to the point that he can't even move one body part, I'll track you down and do the same thing to you as you did to him."_

Zack reminded Daniel's words again, his threatening words of confidence, something he rarely had. Zack took in a deep breath and closed his eyes for only an available second, feeling his chest rise, but also feeling the rise being constricted by something solid that kept him to the bed. He wondered in the back of his mind what was keeping him so locked up, and realized that he didn't feel right. His body – every point of his entire body didn't feel familiar, as if he had switched bodies overnight. Unformed thoughts rushed in the back of his mind, as if indecisive of which one to be thought first. Zack peered down to the sheet covering his body, his head only able to bend a little.

Down to his waist, he saw a thick strap of fabric taping him to the bed, like a constricting tentacle that refused to let him breathe. He felt the lack of air begin to consume him mentally, and he also found something new on him as well. Something he of course didn't recognize – which was what caused the unfamiliarity in his own clothes. From what little part of his body he could see away from the covers, he found himself wearing something else. He was no longer wearing his shirt, or his any of his original clothing. He was now donning a shirt that was half opened, revealing nothing beneath it but the midsection of his own chest. His arms were locked up and he couldn't move, nor could he twitch.

"What the hell?!" he cried out in arising surprise and shock, his face going comical as always. His screaming roar of alarm echoed off the walls and seemed to shake the whole room, like a mini earthquake preserved in his room. Zack looked around to the sides of the bed to see any signs of his original clothing, but he could find none. He continue to move in restraint, sweeping his legs wildly in the air in a panic, kicking the white sheets around crazily, his face structure growing more and more tense.

"Hey, what's with you and causing commotion?" a voice he didn't realize that was there chimed in. Zack stopped kicking crazily and froze his expression in acknowledgement. He turned his head to one side of the room, racing the door when he found Madasora standing comfortably a few feet away from him by the bed.

"Commotion? What commotion!?" Zack roared loudly, his voice shaking the bed indistinctively in constant restraint.

Wow, he doesn't even realize that he's doing it, Madasora thought with a disappointed look painted on his face. Either that or he just doesn't know what commotion is…How slow is this guy? "Calm down!" Madasora demanded. The Wind Council was tired as well. He didn't get much sleep, since he had to make up a lot of working from training the slow one for so long. "You've had more rest than me, so be quiet!" Madasora informed again. His attitude was cross that late morning, and he folded his arms together, intertwining them in a lock in front of his chest. He sighed sleepily as he tried to prevent himself from fainting to the floor and just fall asleep right there. Madasora felt like he could hibernate a million winters. Bold, shadowy lines covered the under part of his eyes, showing no signs of rest whatsoever.

At Madasora's shoulder, his pet bird, Minasan, chirped a happy song of mockery. It seemed to have a great time, always feeling so comfortably and rested.

The bird's laughing at me… Zack realized from his imprisoned place in the bed, his eyebrow twitching above his belittled stare. "Okay, listen! Can you just release me from this stupid -?"

Zack's words were cut off. Madasora cleared his throat loudly, calling upon the Minor's attention. Zack stopped in the middle of his sentence to find Madasora pointing at the position where the strap was. Zack peered down to it, and found the shredded pieces of fabric cut up beside him and on top of him. What the…? Zack thought in his constant humorous expressions. When did he…?

As if reading his mind, Madasora replied, "I did it when you were screaming your lungs out for no apparent reason. God, you really are slow." Madasora spoke his words out with a smile.

Zack scoffed ignorantly. "Whatever," he noted calmly, a personality not known to him. Zack easily shifted his position so he sat up on his bed, his bare feet touching the cool plaster surface of the floor. Early began to surround his body and skin, creeping through the openings of his half open shirt with the huge sleeves that stretched a little past his elbow, and the large collar that covered the entire back of his neck. The shirt was white, and practically showed too much skin, but came together from the torso down. The cold air filtered through his slightly tanned toes, creeping up the new long shorts he was in, that went down to the middle of his forelegs. The pants were gray, and also baggy at the bottom, yet tight at the waist. The shirt was long as well, and as pale as the white snow you find in Hanayuki.

Feeling free, Zack rubbed his eyes arrogantly, taking out his anger on the sand in the deep corners of his eyes that seemed to become lighter and lighter in weight by the second. Cool air brushed against his feet, and he felt too chilly. After giving a big yawn into the palm of his hand, he gave an angry look Madasora. "Hey, how the hell did I get in these?" he asked, irritated.

"Oh, come on, how do you think? We dressed you guys in the middle of the night," Madasora explained, letting a shocked, angry expression portray on Zack's face.

"You dressed us in the middle of the night?! What the-?" Zack said loudly, getting cut off again.

"Calm down. It's not like we did anything bad. Don't you trust us?" Madasora complained with eyes that seemed to grow heavier, the dark spots beneath them growing darker and darker.

"Yeah, I know, but the fact of another guy touching me in the middle of the night when I'm not awake is just…" Zack said to himself under his breath, looking the other way with a sweat drop forming down the side of his face.

"Did you say something?" Madasora interrogated, his face coming close to Zack's, scaring the seventeen year old boy. Madasora painted a suspicious and annoyed face on his as he neared Zack, a little too close for comfort.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Zack said comically, waving his hand in the air in a humorous way of apology, his eyes closed in forced cheerfulness as he motioned to go past that to another subject. "Just one question," he asked, turning serious.

Madasora gave an acknowledged look, raising one eyebrow. "Where are my shoes?" Zack asked, feeling a bit foolish for asking such a question, turning unserious with the look on his face. Madasora seemed to mimic the same look.

"I'm not sure if you're going to like this but…" Madasora sighed exhaustively.

"What? Are you telling me that I have to walk barefoot?" Zack interrogated with tolerance, feeling it about to break down.

"No, it's just… well…." Madasora decided not to continue the rest of his sentence, and pointed to the corner of the room far away from the two people. Zack followed the finger to find a pair of old Japanese style wooden slippers resting on the floor solemnly, as if waiting for someone to pick them up. Madasora felt the sweat drop full of humor run down the side of his face.

"You're kidding," Zack said, tolerating it with the least amount. Madasora just laughed nervously. Zack gave a loud sigh as he finally accepted, "Okay." Zack walked to the corner of the room to pick them up, the room somehow lit up without windows so that he could see clearly. The cold plaster felt cooling to his warm feet. A nonexistent breeze caressed him through the openings of his shirt. "And what's the point of wearing these things? My clothes look so… old and too Japanese now." Zack said as he slipped the last foot into the wooden slipper, suddenly feeling taller, yet at the same time not tall enough.

"Well, this is going to sound stupid… but it's supposed to help you guys to learn discipline," Madasora explained with no evidence. "I mean, the more old-time you look, the more respect and discipline you're going to have, right? Appearance affects the first stage of emotion sometimes. And trust me; you're the one who needs the most discipline."

"Most discipline?!" Zack protested angrily. "I know you're kidding about that! Let's just go and see what kind of ugly clothes the other guys are wearing, why don't we?!" he said declaratively, storming out of the room, feeling his unbalanced footsteps creeping across the room with uncertain clicks, opening the door wide and running out, getting his feet used to the wooden slippers.

Madasora sighed as the Minor's presence faded from the room, and the bird chirped at his shoulder, laughing a happy song of the morning to lighten things up. Madasora decided to follow, walking sleepily on the plaster ground, hoping that he was following his Minor counterpart in the right direction.

PoVS

Lights flickered in an eerie pattern above as blank thoughts circled Daniel Takiato's mind. What now? He thought. What now? Daniel watched his brother lie in bed with a grim expression locked on his face. Bandages covered different parts of his body, and a tray full of ice shards with blood stained edges lay by his side. His eyes were closed peacefully, like he was in a trance, a faraway trance that Daniel couldn't reach; a faraway trance that Daniel could never find. Different equipment surrounded his brother, a beeping heart monitor, a pale pole that stood high in the air, carrying a plastic bag of water with a tube stuck into Kenneth's arm. Darkness was swept into the back of the corners, and Daniel sat quietly in his seat by his brother.

Kenneth's face was covered with an oxygen mask, a steady, foggy breathing coming on and off the plastic mask that was connected to a machine through a tube. Daniel watched the plastic water back, the water coming down in drops through the tube. It was slowly dripping in patience, like crying into the water beneath it. It was almost like an hourglass – only with water, counting down the moments of death, until everything was over and taken away, everything that Daniel ever knew. The heart monitor beeped steadily, the scribbled lines symbolizing something that Daniel didn't know, as if a code, a message almost.

What is it? Daniel thought sadly with eyes that glittered with water. What are you trying to tell me? He thought as he stared at the zigzag lines of the heart monitor, repeating its message over and over again like an angel's whispered message. The dead beeping filled the room with dullness, and Daniel watched Kenneth's face. Please… Daniel thought. Please open your eyes, he begged, feeling his nose twitch from the inside in sadness. He felt the tears began to leak out form the sides, trying to resist them from coming out. Please…open your eyes for me, just one more time, I beg you…Just one more time, Daniel continued to beg.

The oxygen mask began to fill with fog, which was soon sucked back in and breathed back out. Kenneth's eyes were closed, unacknowledged of Daniel's desperate wishes of breaking hope. Please, just once more, once more for me, for your brother. Open your eyes….he pleaded, feeling the restraint on his tears begin to lose its grip. Daniel watched Kenneth's eyes remain still, feeling the desperateness through rejection, his inanimate eyes not as sprung to life as they used to be. His eyes used to shine so much, used to shine with the delicacy and hope of the moon, the kindness and bravery of the sun, and the patient, protecting stare of the heavenly clouds that guarded the azure sky.

The flickering continued as the equipment surrounding Daniel's brother continued their processes mindlessly, having no mind or care of what happens next. Daniel watched his brother, who's been the only one who supported him since childhood as he lay mindlessly on the soft bed mindlessly, as if his body frozen in time, and everything else around him acted for him. Kenneth nii-san…where have you gone? Daniel thought, losing hope. Kenneth again lay in his unavailable condition, his arms by his side with all the tubes circling him. It hurts me to see you like this, don't you know that? Don't you? Daniel thought, taking his brother's open hand that lay by his side and gripping it tightly, wanting to give him something as a token of hope, but had nothing.

"The others, they don't understand you. They don't know what we've been through together, they don't know anything," Daniel whispered softly, his brother's hand comforting to his own, the warm feeling giving some hope into Daniel's state. "Please, if you leave…" Daniel whispered again, his voice so low it sounded like an angel's voice. "If you leave me… I'll run. I'll run a hundred miles, a thousand miles, as many miles as it takes for me to get you back," Daniel explained, watching Kenneth's closed state of mind as he whispered so slightly not even a mouse could compare to its quietness. "I don't need you to protect me anymore… but…if I lose you… it means the same thing to me as losing everything." Daniel tilted his head upward with sad, piercing eyes. He found the water tube system working, dripping more water slowly and with suspense, telling him that time was running out. He took a deep, silent breath that he kept to himself and bent his head down to watch his hand wrap around his brother's weak hand. His grip was now far stronger than his, not like it had always been. The tube systems surrounding him were silent and seemed innocent for the purpose of good yet caused more uncertainty in Daniel's deepest feelings. It made his brother seem like a machine, with all those tubes and plastic, or even a warrior. A warrior, yeah, that's it, Daniel thought, staring hard at the ground in hope that was hard to keep up. A warrior that always protected me, a warrior that I never had the chance to pay back. Daniel tightened his grip, feeling the hand become cooler than his own.

As he felt his own emotion break down and shatter into pieces, shards that could never be repaired fall into his stomach, Daniel felt weaker all over in depression, a single tear sliding down his cheek easily, that one and one lonely tear only. Is that what I am now? Daniel thought. Just one lonely tear? No other drops to help me become one? Just isolated in my path down? What do I have to do to make you come with me on my path down? What must I do for another set full of memories?

"_He's in a life threatening condition,"_ they had told me.

Feeling his grip become so tight that it felt like he was about to crush his brother's hand, he loosened the clenching, trying any desperate attempt to make Kenneth feel comfortable, wherever he was.

"What do I do now, nii-san?" Daniel whispered again holily. "What now?" Daniel continued to stare at Kenneth's unnoticing expression, his eyes locked up beneath the eyelids that seemed to put them far, far away, deep into the darkness so they would never be found. "Do I really have to…wish again? Is that what you're forcing me to do? Wish?"

Daniel remembered in nostalgia all the moments in his life, in his childhood where he and his brother and wished together. Everyday, three times a day was the rule. "Fine, then," he whispered slowly, the cold tear at his side becoming freezing to his side of the face

Slowly, out of desperation and nostalgia, Daniel began reciting his prayer:

"When the shining fall and the darkness rise, who am I to tell the lies?

When heroes come and heroes die, I'll be the one who always cries.

With shadows cast and lightning gone, angels cry and are forever shunned.

When the solemn sun and the loyal moon meet,

I am forever able to hold my creed-"

As Daniel continued the words, he slowly felt himself become consumed in his old memories, one at a time, slowly and nostalgically, he was sucked back into another world far away, but somehow, not far enough:

"…So now I ask, this time twice, to my dreams I am forever enticed," Daniel and Kenneth said the last words in unison with their high, childlike voice. They separated their folded hands and reopened their eyes. They looked cheerful this time, and gave each other different looks of everlasting hope.

"That makes two," Kenneth said, smiling with a wide, childish smile.

"Yeah," Daniel grunted, his voice even childlike. Daniel's face was small and innocent, while Kenneth's was longer and seemingly more deceiving. Daniel's smile quickly faded, and he ended up having his hands lying there on his kneeled legs, his stare hard and worrisome against the dirt floor of the monument of war they stood in front of. The monument was made of pure marble, and was stained with the blood of the warriors in battle. The Takiato Family's father was still at war, and made nine year old Kenneth and seven year old Daniel worry everyday.

"What's the matter?" Kenneth said, taking Daniel's shoulder in comfort, his expression locked in sympathy.

"You really think Dad's going to come back?" Daniel asked, his stare heavy on the ground, unable to be lifted.

"Want me to tell you the truth?" Kenneth said, his eyes slumping to a depression as the two children kneeled on the dirty ground surrounded by trees and grass. The hot sun felt warming to the back of their necks, and covered their fronts in shadow. Daniel gave a small grunt and a nod. Kenneth sighed and said, "I don't know if he's coming back."

"I…see…" Daniel said, tilting his head even more down. "Then what's the-"

"But, what I do know is that he's part of the Takiato Clan, just like us, and the Takiato never give up, right?" Kenneth said, smiling, tilting his head to one side as a sign of warmth. That smile warmed Daniel more than the blazing summer sun did.

Daniel smiled back, a hope renewed in the depths of his lost emotion. As the uncertainty soon became nothing but silence, Daniel felt something pelt against the back of his head. The seven year old cried out, and fell forward, landing on top of his stomach. His glasses were knocked away from him, and he couldn't see a thing. Dust consumed the inside of his mouth, and pain shot through the back of his head.

"Daniel nii-san!" Kenneth cried out immediately, placing his hands for support on his younger brother's back. Daniel coughed out dust and brushed the dirt away from his eyes and face. He searched frantically for his glasses, waving his hands around him, trailing the dirty ground with his fingers until he came across them and struggled to put them back on.

Meanwhile, Kenneth looked back to see who it was. He growled at the sight. "What's the matter? Can't handle a few rocks?" a child's voice came. The child had a mean look on his face, a tough, bossy look that belonged to bullies only. He was surrounded by two other tough looking children Kenneth and Daniel's age, and the three of them were framed by the sunlight behind them, casting their dark, imperial shadows over Kenneth and Daniel's faces. Daniel turned and sat up, getting his body back to normal as he watched the middle kid throw a rock into the air and caught it again only to throw it back up as gravity pulled it down. He had an evil smirk on his face, and Daniel crept back against the monument that provided little support. Even though the monument of war was a sign of respect and protection, it gave very little of it to young Daniel Takiato.

Kenneth growled. "What do you guys want? We don't even know you?" he scowled, on one knee in front of Daniel, who was so scared that he wished he could just run away, but he could never think of doing that without his brother.

"So what? You guys are the sons of Hinode Takiato, right? He owes my mom and dad some serious amount of money," the grinning kid mocked. "It's been about a month now and he still hasn't paid them back," he explained, the other two kids by his side as if they were a prop.

"Father owes everyone money…" Daniel whispered. He was so desperate for money he asked the other villagers for loans, but never found a way to pay them back… Daniel thought, bending his small legs close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them for protection and safety, trying to hid his insecurity, but as the end result, showing it even more.

"I know he does," Kenneth said solemnly. "But that's why he he's working, so he could pay you guys back! That's why he's at war, risking his life out there with no experience whatsoever in the military, and just there volunteering for the money; the money that he owes everyone in this village!" Kenneth cried out in a rising voice, his icy stare unthawing and narrowing, his teeth becoming grit and his fists becoming clenched in anger.

"Whatever, let's just get him. Maybe after we take him out he'll get some sense knocked into him," one of the boys by the main one's side suggested with his own, childish yet evil smirk. That one was chubby and bald, while the other one at the main bully's side was lanky and small.

"Nah, I have a better idea," the middle one insisted. "You see that one hiding behind his bro over there?" he said, referring to Daniel, pointing accusingly with a bullying smirk. Daniel shifted his feet uncomfortably as he felt the hard stares and accusing fingers reach him in his tiny little ball that he curled up into. He winced in fear, and clutched his knees even tighter by the monument. "I say we get him. He looks like the weakling," the bully said. The two by his side agreed. He gave a touch smirk as the three began to throw rocks in my direction of all kinds of sizes, small ones, thick ones, large ones, and tiny pebble ones.

I took in a deep breath in my rising horror and fear and shut my eyes, and covered my face with my arms wrapped around them, letting go of the clutch I put on my knees. I heard the rocks being picked up and clattering to the floor, but I didn't feel anything. I felt nothing stab me with the tremendous pain I suspected. What happened?

I opened my eyes slowly to see what was going on, to see why the thing I thought was going to happen wasn't happening. And there I saw it. My brother, Kenneth, being the tough one standing straight up in confidence, acting like a human shield, positioning himself like a five sided star with his stare hard on the floor, taking the thousands and thousands of rocks being pelted towards us. I stared in even more horror and shock as I knew those rocks had to give him wounds in all sorts of places, and I knew that I should help him out, but my legs were too frozen to move. I sat, my limbs and body shaking violently that it was hard to believe. I couldn't move one part of my body, and waited until one of them finally told the others that they should get going, and that what they were doing was getting boring, and they rushed away, never to be seen again.

In my shock and surprise, I couldn't even mutter a word, until Kenneth turned around, revealing all kinds of forehead wounds and chest wounds that spilled blood like tears, like his skin was crying. The drops of horrible read horrified me even more, and to my surprise, I didn't throw up.

"It's okay now," Kenneth said with a smile, wiping his forearm without a sleeve against his forehead, taking the dripping wound and making it into a red splotch. "Don't worry, stop shaking," he told me, his reassuring smile making me calm a bit. "It's only a forehead wound and some small, unnoticeable ones. It's all right." He came towards me and took me by the hand, bringing my spirit back to earth and my consciousness back into focus. I tried to mutter words, but my speech hadn't returned. "Well? Say something," he said, as if nothing just happened and everything was completely normal. The hot sun framed him like an angel – like my guardian angel, and his winning smile made it all the more worth of remembering. "Come on, I'd take a rock shower any day for you, wouldn't I? Stop being so scared and stop hiding in your shell."

I blinked to let him know I was alive. I took a big gulp, swallowing the nervous panic back into the pit of my stomach. "O…Okay," I muttered out. He helped me get back up, and we soon began walking home back to mother. We needed to get Kenneth's wounds fixed. But that wasn't going to be the last time he stood up for me like that. He did so many other times, it was impossible for a genius with no life to count them. And all times, I would sit there, my limbs shaking in horror and fear, my teeth chattering and my panic building, never to shatter back into little pieces until everything was over.

Back into reality, I finished the last few words in my older, deeper voice as a fourteen year old. The tear down my cheek was hanging on a limb, its transparency noticeable hanging off my chin. I held my brother's hand tighter, feeling the hand become colder and colder, his heavy breathing become lighter and lighter. Don't go… not now… please… don't go, I pleaded him. He didn't seem to listen.

Don't…go…. And as my final thoughts finished, the hourglass of water seemed to stop; the heavy breathing in the background seemed to wither away, and the heart monitor began to give a shrill, high pitched beep, and the zigzag lines of hope flattened to nothing but a memory lost.


	43. Chapter 43

My brother's large hand was still being warmed in my own, my body not letting him become cold and… I couldn't even think of the word. Not now, not ever. I felt my smaller hand lose in the fight, the coldness of death beginning to creep around my hands and fingers, trickling through them like dissolving emotions always forgotten to express.

The flat line that seemed constant on the small monitor screen beeped loudly, giving a shrill cry, trying to bring me back down to earth, to realization, something I refused to experience inside. Not planning on giving up just yet, I gripped his hand tighter. He limp fingers didn't grip back. They didn't hold me in this time of fear, this time of worry turning into a broken emotion; they didn't protect me any longer like they always did my guardian angel. I bent my head down as I felt shamed, like I had failed someone. But what could I do? All I could've done was sit there and wait, but even still, I felt like I should've done something more to help him.

Refusing to let go of the past, I held onto his hand tighter, as if trying to keep him on earth, trying to hold his hand as he tried to pull away, to go away from my life. But I knew that he was long gone. It was no use. The flickering lights above stopped in a dramatic pause, as if it were in shock and sorrow as well. "I said I'd run a thousand miles if I had to," I whispered, my voice unsteady, cracking in the middle of my sentence. My words came in a whimper, and that one tear that clung to the side of my chin finally let go, seeming to drop in slow motion. It was as if time had frozen, and as I felt the cold drop leave its last touch on my skin, I felt the coolness fall upon the hand that gripped my dead brother's, shaking wildly in resistance. Resistance of what? I thought. Resistance of the truth.

Tears began to slide from beneath my glasses, rolling down my cheeks like I was the gloomy glass window, and the rain was pouring on top of me for once, giving me a whole new experience, a whole new understanding of how someone would feel. The tears curved at my cheeks with ease, at least two or three of them flowing down in streaks at a time. They fell quickly to my strong grip below, as if a wish had been made on them.

My head bent down, my eyes unable to fall themselves upon my brother's face or body, I felt my whole life flash before my eyes, as if I were doing it for Kenneth, the one unconscious and unable to see anything, remembering all the times we spent together, the good and the bad, the fun and the serious.

I remembered the time he protected me from the pelting rocks, a blood streak falling down the side of his pace, my face frozen in a lock of fear. I remembered myself crying as a child, curled up into a ball when father was to leave that day, Kenneth hugging me for support. I remembered feeling the warm tears of his own falling down my face, new drops of sadness to be shed. I remembered the times we laughed, becoming closer and closer with every second, every minute of our lives. Laughing at the lake, the forest, at home when mother yelled at Kenneth for doing something bad, when really he had been sticking up for me so I wouldn't feel anymore sadness. I remembered the times when I thought I was weak, and that I should improve, always being scared and afraid, no matter how smart I got, but I never improved. I always let Kenneth take the big hits for me. I always used to hide behind him like a shield. And now… now he's gone. More tears rolled down my solemn expression full of grief as I tried to prevent my face from shaking indistinctively, biting my lip so I wouldn't cry out in pain and distress that I knew I had to live with from now on. Feeling his hand grow colder by the second, I felt our bonds beginning to sever, the threads connecting us snapping in two, the two ends now distant from each other by a whole world. Memories that came in a dim orange color and black and white flashed in my mind more like a slideshow of the past.

_"I promise to protect you, even when we're older, I'll do anything to stay by your side."_

Kenneth had told me these words with a wide, childish smile that he always seemed to carry back then, his childish face lively and protective, and his teenage expression nonexistent and cold with the grudging, icy stare he probably hid underneath. I remembered praying at the monument, praying at home, laughing at home, crying in the forest, running through the shallow waters of the lake, and feeling the hot sun on our backs as we climbed out of the cool, muddy waters. We smiled as our feet walked unsteadily out of the rushing water, smiling with the same brightness of the sun. Those smiles were gone now. They were nonexistent.

That should be me, I thought, as I looked up as far as I could go without breaking down. That should be me, dead on that bed. I should be the one dead… for abusing someone who was willing to sacrifice everything for me. Why, brother? Why did you care so much about me? Why did you have to protect me from every single little thing?! I cried out to him in my mind, the tears becoming more abundant in my face, my expression almost drowned in the flood, the sour taste of them washing my tongue and mouth. I watched the flat line swim across the screen easily once more in hopes that it would show some sign of up or downward movement. But it never came. My wishes never came true.

Just once more… I thought, even my inner voice cracking with sadness. My fingers constricted his tighter, squeezing it so tightly for support that I was sure I was going to break his fingers. Just once more, if I could say something to you one more time… I sniffed. I'd give the whole world, just for that…You said you'd do anything to stay by my side. Anything. Does anything include coming back from another world? Does it? Doesn't it? I asked quietly in my mind, so low that even I couldn't hear it.

As my last thought was done with, my last tear dropped into the building pool of sour drops, I listened hard to the shrill cry of the monitor, my eyes hard on the floor, and too heavy to be picked up. I closed my eyes, ending my tearful cries until I heard something. Something that was differentiating the pattern of the noise that rang in my ears. I heard a pause – and then a beep.

I reopened my eyes, tear beads at the corners of my eyes, taking a sharp breath as I soon found myself out of air. It was another while until another beep was heard, and I turned to see the monitor. The flat line was still there… and another second came a short zigzag.

Could it be? I gulped down a huge knot of rising panic and hope, mixed in with anxiety. I gripped my brother's hand tighter in high hopes. I began to feel the storm of my mind begin to clear and let the sun shine once again, the clouds turning from its eerie gray to a ghostly white. More beeps came, and the time distance between each one grew shorter and shorter. Zigzags began to fill the screen instead of flat lines, and soon consumed it. As the constant beeping continued, I took a deeper breath in rising hopes that increased impossibly with each shrill beep of light. Kenneth….nii-san?

I turned to find my brother's face still unmoving and his eyes still closed, his protecting stare forever sealed. I found something bright in my way, cutting off my vision. What…? I thought.

The light was coming from where my brother and mine's hands met, A bright energy that glowed with the color of soul energy soon filling the small hospitalizing room, painting visual hope across my face and gleaming, frozen eyes of shock. We held the glowing orb of light between our hands, as if a shining star sent as a message from whoever was up there watching us. The zigzag lines became larger and larger, thicker and thicker, and the beeping became more normal.

As the light grew stronger, I felt energy drain from my body, but I didn't care; all I cared about was getting Kenneth back – in any way I could. I watched with unknowing eyes as I felt and saw Kenneth stir in his bed. He let out an exasperated moan quietly, his eyes blinking slowly and heavily once, and then reopening to let me find his friendly, glazed sky blue eyes. They filled my heart with hope, but all was not going to be the same again. He looked at me with a wondering stare as to what happened, knowing nothing of the pain I had gone through. He looked as if his expressions were frozen, and the light soon wore off. What that light was, I didn't know, but I was glad to see it. He smiled when he saw me a second later, and I smiled back. I wiped the wet streaks that began to dry away from my face with a sleeve, and pushed the tears back into my eyes as I let out a wide grin that showed my teeth, something that people haven't seen for such a long time. I don't want to let go, I thought, referring to my hand with a strong grip wrapped around my brother's.

"Like your ability?" I heard a voice behind me appear out of nowhere, scaring me half to death, something I shouldn't really be joking about with right now. I turned around with my hand still closely clasped around my brother's palm and crooked fingers, finding Shintenmaru staring hard at him with his reflecting glasses. "Just be careful with it, though. Every time you use it, the more you use to heal, the more you shorten your maximum lifespan," Shintenmaru warned.

I turned back with a closed smile, and Kenneth stared with a smile back, but also with eyes filled with wonder as to what was going on. "I said a while ago…. That I'd give my world again and again just to let my brother live, didn't I? Or were you not here for that?" I said with my back turned to Shintenmaru. I could sense a short smirk painted across his face behind me.

"Wh…What's going on?" Kenneth said with a short sigh, his voice restarting back up again to its normal state, his first words coming out in a whisper.

"Nothing," I said softly. "Nothing." A miracle, I figured. A miracle just happened. These powers are definitely the work of whatever god is up there. I thanked whoever it was, and smiled a little too wide for comfort. "Kenneth nii-san…?" I asked, my smile straightening out into a serious one.

He coughed a small, unserious cough, and asked, "What is it?" with wandering eyes, his eyes shining brightly with the hope that he always seemed to have constantly installed into him. Those were the eyes of a guardian angel, I thought.

"I don't need you to protect me anymore," I told him in a whisper, his eyes widening, and then a smile growing.

So, Shintenmaru thought in the back of the room away from the scene. This is the Minor Hyoumaru was talking about. The one who released the first seal in his first fight… even if just a little…I see.

PoVS

"Ah-ha!" Zack pointed accusingly at Derek, who became surprised immediately at the uproar as he was walking through the halls.

"What?" Derek said, his stare narrowing to an annoyed one.

"How do you explain that one?" Zack said, his finger still pointing directly at Derek, his eyes closed in proof as Madasora came nearer, his feet tired and his body out of breath, so tired that even his bird was panting tiredly at his shoulder.

"Explain what, you idiot?" Derek said calmly in his annoyed state, a comical irritated sign appearing by the side of his head.

"Explain why your clothes are so cool and mine aren't," Zack pointed out, reopening his eyes accusingly, so accusingly that he looked idiotic more than normal.

"I…I can't see your…your point," Madasora said, holding his knees with his hands, breathing hard with his eyes closed. Why did he take forever to find just one Minor? And how come he can run so fast? Madasora said, his breath slowly being regained.

"Just look!" Zack said, pointing the other hand's index finger for a double pointing effect. Derek gave a narrow, bothered look as if to threaten to break off his fingers. Derek was wearing gray, long shorts just like Zack had made of cotton, and was also wearing the Geta sandals, or the wooden sandals, which literally meant "click-clack," for the sound they made. Derek however was wearing a totally different thing for the top. He wore an old style Japanese coat in black, outlined at the sides and edges with a white lining. The coat had sleeves that went a little past his shoulders and had a white circle holding the Japanese word for "Hell" inscribed in it on the back. The coat was open, and revealed a nonexistent shirt. Derek's chest and parts of his stomach were wrapped in black bandages for two reasons exactly, one of them being so that he didn't reveal too much. On his foreleg, there was a black, thin bandanna wrapped around it, it's end sashes hanging noticeably when he walked. The dark clothes made his shoulders stand out broadly, a little more broad than Zack was. His mean stare matched with the tone of his clothes.

"Look at what? Stop complaining and get to the point," Madasora said, finally done recreating his breath, the bird still a bit exhausted resting on his shoulder.

"To start off with, why does he get to have the word 'Hell' on the back of his coat? That's really unfair, you know," Zack said with squinting eyes or arrogance.

Madasora sighed. "That's because the shadow powers originate from the source of the underworld, so as a sign of respect, both Shadow Minor and Council have to wear it," he explained, the bird twittering by his side a song of cheerfulness, trying to regain the energy it had lost. In the end, it just ended up tiring itself out.

"Okay well then, what about those bandages? I mean, I need something to cover the top part of my chest up, don't you think? This shirt's open so big that it reveals it," Zack complained once more.

Madasora gave another exasperated sigh. "That's because that's for Derek's hurt chest. His chest was broken when Jeremy and Dylan found him by one of White Cloak's people, and even though a doctor healed most of his injuries, he still has some problems operating it normally. He was lucky he passed Hibiyomi's fight without getting himself killed." The bird continued to sing happily, bouncing on one leg up and down, then switching to the other, its eyes closed and its mouth wide open with its wings spread out, grabbing bits of attention from the surrounding people.

Derek sighed at the memory in nostalgia, closing his eyes, trying to push back the memory of burning skin far, far away into the back of his mind. "Well, I still want it," Zack said, scratching the side of his head with an index finger, his expression going a bit nervous and comical.

"You want to get your chest broken?! Fine with me!" Madasora yelled humorously, the bird still dancing happily at his side. Zack immediately backed away and gave an apology with his comical nice expression. Madasora sighed in annoyance. God… really, this guy… Madasora thought as he put one arm on his waist, a sign that he was tired. The dark corridors were somehow lit up today brightly, and everything came to sight clearly and easily, the naked eye ready to detect any details you would want them to explain.

"Hey," Derek called out, his eyes looking a bit tired and weary. His words caught Zack's attention. Madasora watched wearily. "What the hell is a strip of cloth wrapped around your ring finger for? You married or something?" he scoffed.

Zack let out an expression of blank thoughts. "What?" he muttered as he lifted his right hand to see the white strip of cloth tied around the base of his middle finger, its tasseled ends long and tail-like, the Japanese word for "wind" inscribed in a darker shade of noticeably white facing the back of his hand. "What's this doing here?" Zack muttered stupidly.

"You idiot," Madasora retched comically with a tight expression on his face, ready to punch the heck out of his Minor counterpart. "The Five Base Minors have to wear them, a different one on each finger."

"Oh," Zack muttered, putting an annoyed face as he continued to look at his hand, getting irritated. "That's stupid," he pointed out bluntly.

Madasora began to yell different things indistinctively, his facial expression going wide with anger and surprise, his voice roaring off the halls. Zack apologized again with humor. Madasora sighed as soon as he finished yelling, and Derek looked away in annoyance, his stare wandering.

Really, this guy... the both of them thought, Zack still backed up against the wall, waving his hand in motion in a humorously, objective way.


	44. Chapter 44

Dark shadows were hiding in the corners of the wide, lit up room. Cool air filled the inside of it, and the lights were bright and steady on the ceiling. Teresa sat at the wooden and metal table, her eyes staring off to space in front of her, her arms crossed on the table with her head wrapped in them. Her arms covered half of her face, revealing damp purple eyes and a cold, cooling face. She sat uncomfortably and carelessly in the old wooden chair, lost in her won thoughts, her eyes wandering off in a trance. No improvements had been made since Minoa had talked to her.

"Show me how to use those eyes," Teresa remembered asking Minoa with a strong willed voice. She was confident to learn back then, referring to the Visible Darkness eyes that belonged to the two relatives only, the two at least five hundred years apart.

"Let me ask you something. What do you think of good and bad things?" Minoa had asked her, surprising her with the sudden topic of question. Teresa answered truthfully, saying that there was no such thing as good things, and that bad things scarred you for life. That's what she really believed, and after hearing her words, Minoa rejected her.

She found a little of her confidence again over time… but then, she lost it again, crushed by the same people. How am I supposed to pay them back… pay myself back, if I can't do anything?! Teresa thought, echoing off her trancelike state, her eyes dull and showing no emotion whatsoever. Her purple hair swept in front o her face lightly, tickling her cheeks and tickling her nose with its gentle, delicate touch. Violet eyes glimmered in the old light above, and warm yet cold arms wrapped around her mouth.

She had awoken that morning sad, finding herself in all of these new clothes. She didn't really care how they did it or why they wanted her to wear these things, but she didn't care at this point. She'd wear the ugliest clothes in the world if she had to, just to find her confidence back. Just a sliver of it, an ounce. But no amount ever came. She wore this netted vest underneath a long sleeve, sweater like ebony purple shirt with the longest sleeves ever, reminding her of her old straightjacket. Long shorts came with them as well, grim and gray in color, her old, worn out and dirt caked sneakers now old Asian slippers. The sleeves were so big and wide, it went inches past her fingertips. It kept her warm, and somewhat safe on the inside, but never deep enough for her needs.

Teresa's mouth curled into a shivering frown behind her constricting arms, almost suffocating even to breathe. A cold tear stayed at the side of her face, her back slanted to such an extent that it seemed lazy, only her arms resting her head on the table, the only support she had. Teresa shut her eyes, closing her trance and trying to make a deeper one for her to fall into, so she could forget everything that ever happened to her. She still was not convinced that everything she had gone through in her so called "life" was real. What was real? Was it something I all ready experienced, Teresa thought. Or is it something I have yet to even scratch? To even surface on top of on? Just how the hell do I know that I'm not hallucinating a life? Her eyelids were shut tightly, pushing all the blood into them, feeling the warmth wrap around her retina with a bare touch. She sniffed as her nose felt moist and began to dry, wishing her lost stare in the violet pool to go away, trying to call upon a much advanced, more helpful type of sight.

With force, Teresa opened her eyes, confident yet hopeless to pour something out, something new from her eyes. She felt no change, and from the outside, she was right. I saw them when I was younger…Teresa realized. How come I can't use Visible Darkness anymore? What have a I lost? Nothing's really changed, has it? Teresa thought, giving up on a solution to her problem and sighing. She sat up a bit straighter and ran fingers through her stringy hair, feeling the comfort of the damp, unique hair color. A piece of her felt missing. Something wasn't right anymore.

Suddenly, the door slid open from the side of the room. It opened quietly, sliding into the interior of the adjacent wall. The redwood entrance was soon out of sight, and Teresa settled back to her original state, wrapping the bottom of her face in a tight lock of her large sleeved arms. The door slid with a rolling sound against the plaster floor, an impossible sound to not take attention of.

From the side of the room, barely away from Teresa's c corner of her eye, someone walked in. All in his new clothes, he had a tight expression on his face, as if he were mad, yet kind at the same time. It was Kahibi Eric, the Fire Minor.

He walked slowly with a pace of a snail, his new clothes getting a while to get used to him, and vice-versa. He no longer wore his bandanna with the fire logo on it. Now he donned a plain red bandanna that kept his head looking elliptical. His eyes were as dark and secretive as ever. Eric wore a regular black short sleeved shirt underneath an old style Japanese coat with no collar, or much shoulder support. The coat was red, and over his heart was an image of a tree branch sticking out, its glossy, bushy leaves just growing naturally. It was to represent respect for all plants that helped kept fire alive. Eric's coat's sleeves were no longer than past his bicep, and he wore a sash-like strip of fabric that was colored red on his finger, having the Japanese word for fire written in black on it. The ribbon wrapped around his finger like a snake of blood red colors. He wore fingerless gloves as well, colored a bright red with a white written word for fire in Japanese as well. He wore dark blue cotton pants that were rolled up to the midsection of his forelegs, and his feet donned the click-clack slippers that some of the Minors had been forced to worn.

Not caring for his opinion, Eric walked forward toward Teresa, the clicking and clacking of his shoes hard against the floor, almost to a point where it annoyed someone. Teresa seemed to not care or notice, keeping her head directed at the same position as it always had been since that morning, staring off into space as if something phenomenal was taking place before her very eyes. The only phenomenal thing that she saw today is the amount of time she thought and cried over and over again like a pattern. The wooden knock of his shoes neared more and more, until it finally stopped, the eighteen year old boy appearing in front of the Mind Minor, both parties sure that she had noticed him by now.

Teresa didn't seem to care and continued to stare off into space. Her eyes were dead with boredom and half closed in sadness. Her eyes glimmered glassily a bit more until finally dying out, like drying in the dim lights. Eric stared back at her with an expressionless stare.

"What's the matter?" he said quietly at first, picking up the left side of his coat with his right gloved hand, the coat slanting off of his shoulders, a little too big for the broad shouldered teen.

Teresa didn't answer. She didn't show any reaction of acknowledging his presence, even though she really did inside. Eric's large shadow fell upon Teresa, her eyes darkening, her glimpses less tearful now. The sixteen year old girl gave a short sigh under her breath that only she could hear, and looked up slowly. Her eyes wandered upward, meeting with Eric's shadowy stare, his figure traced by the darkened lights. "What do you care? It's not your problem," Teresa muttered quietly, returning her stare back downward, falling into her spacey trance again,

"For one thing, I heard you whimpering outside for a while now. People in a state of pain bother me. And another thing… from the look in your eyes… you're obviously worrying about something," Eric explained, sighing deeply and then snaking his arms around each other, intertwining them in an eternity of a lock. His appealing, strong forearms would've surprised normal people, but Teresa basically didn't have a care in the world for something materialistic.

"Why should I tell you something to amuse you? My sadness is not to be your treasures," Teresa said quietly, her words coming from her heart. Her stare was like so completely dull, it seemed like she was being possessed by a spirit who had forgotten how to use any bodily functions except speaking, and was talking dully and mysteriously through the voice of the Mind Minor. Oh, how Teresa wished that was true.

"My treasures? Something like that being a treasure to someone is overrated," Eric stated loudly and clearly, shifting to his left a little, letting some light fall on Teresa's face. Teresa didn't answer. It was like his words were processing through a computer.

"I…I don't want connections," Teresa stated demandingly, closing her eyes in resistance, deciding to no longer talk to the fellow Minor she barely knew. She didn't plan to get to know anyone in the rest of the group anyway. Although, deep inside her thoughts, she knew it was almost impossible to do. She was even failing right now.

Eric sighed loudly and a bit annoyingly. He shut his eyes as well, but reopened them a second later to find Teresa staring blank off into space again, her circle stare like a glare that was waiting for something to happen. Not once did she even glimpse away from her target that was nonexistent. "If my not being happy is the case," Teresa said, breaking her promise all ready. For some reason, she couldn't help it. She didn't know if she was that desperate to let her problems out, or if she just found him interesting. Either way, she didn't plan on making the growing bond with someone last long. There's no time for those kinds of things anyway, she thought. "Then you don't look too happy as well on your part," she told Eric, the boy putting a look of finally being caught on his face, the portrayal of it obvious and genuine.

"I've had my own problems in the past, you know," he told her, moving a little more to the left, more ceiling light spilling on the left side of Teresa's face. "You're not the only one going through these problems. The Water Minor has problems, too. And who knows who else."

Teresa shifted her stare slightly to her right to find Eric staring back at her with a stare tainted with different emotions, yet unreadable, as if he were a painting that had the portrayal of a varying mixture of colors everywhere, so well mixed and hidden that it was confusing and baffling to just look at it, just to take a short glimpse at it. She looked at him longer, until he finally realized what she was asking for without words.

"Fine, I get your point," Eric told, a few of his mixed colors wearing off, as if sliding off the picture like it was a splotch on glass. "To put a long story short, I was an idiot who made a promise he didn't plan out to keep, and in the end, lost both his parents by someone I still don't know, and just had to leave my village for a new life."

Teresa didn't answer. She knew there was more to it. And when she fake-begged with her eyes, he followed. She had scorned him for the apparent attempt of using problems of the past and present as an interesting story to remember in the future, but now, she was doing the same thing to him, but really, at this point, she really didn't care. Eric sighed as he continued. "I thought if I was strong, I could've protected the people I cared about. How stupid I was," he scoffed, turning to the right to avoid eye contact for the last part. He shifted most of his weight to one leg now, feeling a bit nervous that he was finally letting out his past that he had never told anyone before, because there was no one next to him to tell it to. "A test, was what I thought. Yeah, life was a stupid test. And I messed up on it. Bad. But that doesn't mean I can't go back and erase my decisions of the past. I can make that value up, with the best answers I can give in the future."

Life's a test? Teresa scoffed in the depth of her thoughts. Protecting the ones you care for? Her thoughts raced again. This is why I don't make connections. That's why I try to avoid people as much as I can. You'll always end up failing the people you care about one way or another, and as a result, you just get hurt in the end. It's pointless to do that kind of slow suicide on you.

"Without people to care for, I had to find new people. And that's just it. That's what I think and what I went through," Eric stated the last piece.

"Protection, huh?" Teresa said in her quiet, blunt voice. "That's something I can't do, even if I wanted to." I'm just too weak, she thought loudly in her mind, slapping herself in the interior depths and corners of her mind.

"I'm part of the Miroku Branch of a family," Teresa began explaining. Eric listened closely. He was surprised she had decided to tell him all of a sudden. The wooden table tilted a bit as Eric solemnly took a seat at the opposite side of the table. Now, electric lights fell upon both of them, wrapping around them in invisible warmth that was never felt. As she felt the seconds pass by, she felt her connections grow stronger, her shields weaker, and her panics stronger. "I recently found out that my family has an ability to see ghosts – the child of every ninety-seven generations," Teresa noted, the bottom half of her face still wrapped in her protective, failing arms. "That ability's called Visible Darkness, and then when I became the Mind Minor, I realized that mine was stronger than all five of the Base Minor elements combined, which gave me the sense I had a lot of power."

Eric nodded along with a solemn look on his face that made him look a bit tough, like he was a strong person capable of what he said he wanted to do – to protect the ones he cared about. Teresa continued with the monotonous tone and quiet voice. "Before I actually knew that my ability was named Visible Darkness, the people of my village labeled me as crazy, and put me in a mental hospital in an accusation of psychotic murder. How stupid I was to have told them that 'Ghosts killed my boyfriend and parents.' But even so , after spending three years in a place like that, I began to believe that I really was crazy, that my life wasn't real – it was all a hallucination. As time passed on, I realized that I couldn't make connections. Somewhere along the line, the spirits came back, and I believed that if I ever made more connections, it would just hurt me even more. Making connections with others means breaking them after a while. A year, a set of months, days, maybe even minutes a connection can start and end horribly."

Eric cleared his throat as she stopped talking, swallowing all of this in. He looked calm through the whole thing, but somewhere along the mosaic of different colors, he realized that he couldn't keep cool-headed deep on the inside for long. Teresa continued, this time adding a bit more tone to her voice, remembering her happy memories that she claimed later to be fake, tears beginning to form at the bottom edges of her eyes, ready to stroll down and be liberated. "Now knowing that connections were useless in my life of forgotten identity, I went on a Half-Spirit power outburst, killing hundreds of people in the mental hospital I was locked up in. I knew that kind of thing wasn't right, and even if my life was real or not, I had to pay off the debt I gave myself. And for another thing, too, that I really don't want to talk about right now. Now, knowing that Minoa-sama won't teach me Visible Darkness, and knowing that I can hurt myself or even kill… myself during exercising my element, I feel powerless. Without the ability to change things, how can I pay off my debt. Someone like me is just completely useless."

Eric sighed through his nostrils. He didn't feel like using his mouth for anything else other than talking. "You can," was all he said after a short while.

"What?" Teresa said, narrowing her stare in suspicion and a bit of confusion. She wrapped her arms around her face tighter, like a constricting boa.

"You can protect. You do have the ability to do so. Trust me, I know it. I've lived through it," Eric said, a bit reassuring, but that kind of thing only lasted minutes, Teresa knew.

"Tch, why should I take your word for it? You may not even be real in my life anyway. You could just be another hallucination – another, separate life I created in my own fantasy that I find myself stuck in," Teresa stated strongly in a rising voice, her monotony fading away into a loud, demanding yell of anger and emptying. "Even if my life is real, you're just a stupid connection I accidentally made. This conversation has been officially marked pointless!" she cried out, the first tear streaking down her face, releasing the suffocating hold of her long purple sleeves, Eric finally able to see all of her face that screamed for help deep inside her piercing, violet eyes.

Eric looked hard at the cool wooden surface of the table. He ran his tanned hand through it, his large fingers trickling the runny surface. "Well, then, if what you say is true," he muttered out in a slight voice. Teresa widened her stare a bit with streaking tears that wouldn't leave. "And that connections are really pointless, then what if…"

Teresa continued to listen carefully, not realizing that there could ever be a person – or hallucination out there that could talk about the things she never expected them to talk about. Eric continued in a steady voice full of emotion. "What if two people have a connection all ready, and one of them reads a note, saying that connections are pointless, and you're the one who gets hurt in the end by the other person. Then the other person sees it lying around, and starts to believe in it as well. Then, who's the one who gets hurt in the end?"

Teresa cried out in disbelief. She couldn't answer the question. Why couldn't she answer the question?! Hours and hours, days and days, months and years worth of thinking and she never came across this kind of scenario? Am I really crazy? Teresa thought, her violet orbs shaking almost violently enough that settled in her eyes. The dim lights seemed to grow increasingly stronger, reflecting off her eyes, like hitting a mirror, and making Eric's structures seem more angelic as he continued his words. "How can anyone get hurt like that if both of them think the other one is going to hurt them in the end? If they are truly scared of losing the other one, then they will not harm the other one, since they do not want to give that feeling to the other person. So if it goes like this, then, how will the connection end by someone getting pushed away?" the insightful Fire Minor spilled out his new thought.

Teresa looked down at her bare feet. The bases of her toes were outline with the slipper parts, and the cool air trickled between her toes as she moved them around, like she were playing piano with them. She sighed as she continued to look down, her violet hair falling in front of her face, her mind and body not giving a care in the world for the few strands that fell to the front at all. Her eyes were completely shaded away by her bent head, as if she had become more depressed by talking to someone, and finally answering his question, she stated, "One of them die."


	45. Chapter 45

As he felt the repairing warmth of his brother's hand return to his blood, he felt most of the hope lost return to its original place. He sighed happily, getting a wave of overwhelming emotions out as he smiled helplessly, finding the color return to Kenneth's eyes. It's been a while since he's awoken, and Daniel finally let go of his brother's hand, leaving the live warmth he had returned himself. He trickled his chest with his fingers just to make sure it was all real, feeling the light, hopeful touch of his fingertips run down his body ever so slowly. The exciting touch of his fingertips brought Daniel even more down to reality, until he was over exceedingly sure that his brother had returned to life.

But something didn't feel right to Daniel. He still felt guilty… and he knew immediately what it was. Shintenmaru had left a long time ago, stating that he had to report the good news to everyone else as he walked out slowly and steadily.

"So…" Kenneth coughed out in a weak voice, his condition making it hard to speak. His voice was raspy like claws scratching against a wooden wall. "I'm guessing that… I didn't win the fight?"

"No, you didn't," Daniel said hesitantly, bowing his head to the floor, watching the orange plaster begin to dust with dirt. Daniel tried running his fingers down his chest again, but it gave no comfort. All of it had been carelessly washed away earlier, and he immediately regretted it.

"Is that so?" Kenneth said creakily, sounding like a just opened door. He turned his head with a struggle, his guardian eyes piercing to the ceiling top barely lit up by the one dim light that set the room a bare alight. "I see."

Daniel felt guilt begin to take over him and an enormous amount of pain that somehow mixed in with his seemingly everlasting joy, making him happy and sad at the same time. He felt more tears begin to run down the side of his cheek, the new cold settling in again. His eyes went from wide normal to slump sadness.

"What's wrong?" Kenneth asked, noticing the darkened teardrops slide freely down his brother's face. It hurt Kenneth so much to see his brother in any kind of pain. It hurt him so much, it could've compared to the beginning of heartbreak. Kenneth put a depressed glaze into his stare as he pleaded silently for Daniel to raise his head from the floor and look at him. "Tell me," he said a little stronger and normal this time.

"You…" Daniel said, this time his voice the weaker one, the sound shaking and unstable in its pitch. "You almost died," he reminded Kenneth, giving a loud sniff that filled the whole room. "And I'm… I'm always the one hiding behind you. Even now."

"Yeah, but…" Kenneth began, unsure of what to say with his creaky voice. "My almost dying has nothing to do with my protecting you. They're two different things," Kenneth said, his glazed eyes turning sad and sympathetic, taking a deep breath and breathing it out in a silent whistle.

"No," Daniel denied, taking a hand to wipe away the tears. "Things are different now," Daniel made a note, Kenneth listening carefully. "There's more danger out there; something you can't even protect me from. White Cloak will kill you, Kenneth. He'll kill all of us and take our powers. You can't protect me from something like that anymore."

"Well," Kenneth said, wanting to compromise, his glimmering eyes wandering off to the side. He returned the stare "I…" he began, his voice coming in a whisper. "I can try…" he said, his voice wandering off.

'No!" Daniel cut him off. His stare was still heavy on the floor. He completely denied staring at his brother's own eyes, to find himself swimming in them, being safe inside his guardian stare while his brother continually got hurt any longer. "When it comes down to the point where you die for me, I'll never… _never_ forgive myself! Got it?" Daniel demanded, his body beginning to shake violently, feeling himself lose control over his nerves.

Kenneth stayed quiet solemnly and continued pleading Daniel to look up. Daniel never replied his calls of sympathy. Kenneth found himself speechless, not knowing what to say. All he wanted to do was protect his brother. But in a way, Daniel was right. Maybe Kenneth had been smothering him too much with protection. Maybe he had cared about him so much like an overprotective parent, that he isolated his own brother so he would remain safe while he let himself take the hits. Now, he realized it. Now, Kenneth finally realized, that he had been trying all along to be the parent the two brothers never had. Kenneth pushed back his tears easily, his eyes only coming up to a level of watering. Kenneth felt guilty as well. He was sorry, and didn't want to go on any longer. But he cared about his brother so much… and it was too late. He had all ready let go. It's been consuming my life, Kenneth thought. Now, I feel kind of… empty.

"That's why," Daniel said, sniffing and wiping his eyes beneath his glasses. "That's why; you have to give me a turn this time. This time, I won't be scared any longer, and this time… I'll be the one who protects you," Daniel insisted with much demand, making Kenneth proud. Kenneth smiled and sighed as he closed his eyes gracefully, now trying extremely hard to push back the tears of joy and pride. I never thought I'd hear you say these words and mean it, Daniel, he thought with a smile. Those very words made him feel like a proud being for influencing someone they cared for so much in a good way.

"Okay," Kenneth approved finally, stopping Daniel's tears almost immediately.

"What?" Daniel said, unsure of whether his brother was fooling him. He looked up to find Kenneth returning the stare, their eyes finally meeting each other in a lock that both sides had learned to easily let go of. Daniel felt freer now. Now, no longer do I have to hide behind my brother and not do anything. Now, I can act for myself!

"Okay," Kenneth repeated, smiling, looking so well layered with the blankets covered over him. "But, still, you have to remember, when it comes down to it, I'll still die for you. I still care about you. You're the only one I cared about in the past," Kenneth said, letting out his childhood thoughts out, giving both boys some insight.

Daniel widened his wet eyes as lines of wet rivers streamed down, seeming enough to create an ocean. He had never realized his brother had felt that way about him. Kenneth had never told him in his fourteen years of life that he had cared about him so much. All throughout his life, Kenneth felt belittled and lowered to such a level that he believed he was a weak person who couldn't make the smallest difference in the world, and that he had to be protected by this guardian angel that was there for that reason and that reason only – to protect. Now, I see… Daniel realized. "Die for me?" Daniel muttered, his steady voice returning. "Not if I beat you to it," he said, chuckling slightly, clearing his tears that slowly dried away from his face and into the darkness surrounding them like a transparent barrier.

Kenneth returned the good gesture, and he closed his eyes in mutual respect for his brother, something Daniel hadn't realized he had been looking for all along. "I see," Kenneth said, resting his eyes now, concluding the talk that would impact their whole lives from now on.

Daniel smiled and closed his eyes as well, taking him away shortly from the world he knew as reality, the kind of break he needed right now to think. As the last tear strolled down his face, he wiped it away softly, as if it were a feather, carrying the tear away with his finger, symbolizing the end of his sadness and despair for now. He let out a small, shy smile that would've sunk into anyone's eyes.

PoVS

"Got it!" Zack's voice echoed through the labyrinth halls. His loud, hyperactive voice could've reached ears paying close attention miles away.

"Hey!" a voice yelled out after him. "Give that back!" Madasora cried out, his tension rising. Zack ran past quickly with the fastest footwork he could use, almost running over Derek as the Shadow Minor moved out of the way barely, just in time to avoid the runaway train known as Zack.

Zack rushed past with a mischievous snickering and a prank smile on his face. He quickly ran past and turned at the end of the hall, his click-clack slippers sliding against the plaster ground, and then resuming their loud pacing through the hall. He was pretty confident that he was going to escape, believing that he was so much better than Madasora even after he got his hat handed to him on a silver plate.

Seconds later, Madasora followed, his feet sliding just like the Wind Minor had done. He had an angry expression on his face as he ran through the hallway unsteadily, missing one of his wooden slippers. He limped across the corridor, and turned the corner in a rigorous, idiotic search for his lost footwear.

Keeping to the view of the hallway where both scenes of the frantic running took place, zooming upward, you would find a seventeen year old Wind Minor balancing himself on the ceiling by equalizing the air around him to defy gravity. He had a wide, showy snicker that showed his white, strong teeth. His eyes were shut in mischievousness. In one hand, he held the plaster material that was dusty against the dark ceiling, and in the other hand was the wooden Geta slipper, his fingers barely holding on to the surface of the ceiling behind his back. He snickered once more as he let go of his hold on the surrounding air and dropped back down on the floor on his feet, pretending to look he was all cool and clever. His feet made a loud click as they hit the floor, and his back slumped downward, pulling back up immediately as he felt the energy take apart from him.

He gave another showy smirk as he threw the slipper slightly into the air, only to catch it a second later with the same hand. "Ha," he scoffed at the Council he believed was so much lower than him. He took another showy smirk as he couldn't help but take too much pride in what he had just done.

Behind him, a little behind his feet raised slowly a hand that seemed to come from the floor like a ghost's arm. It seemed to come from a lightly traced portal of ebony black, and grew like the arm was growing it itself. Zack didn't notice a thing, and kept laughing and snickering to himself about how great he was. The hand opened wide, showings its palm and rising up until the elbow.

Zack snickered as he said his final words of pride. "Who's the one without the cool clothes now? Eh?" he laughed, his eyes still shut as if not wanting to be opened. He just couldn't stop laughing indistinctively and lightly. As if on cue, the arm behind him took him suddenly by the foreleg, the sudden feeling of touch scaring the spirit out of Zack. The Wind Minor opened his eyes widely, opening his mouth in shock. The creepy feeling of a hand on his foreleg soon consumed him to a scare until it began to pull him down. He let out a despaired cry as he felt his foot sink into the plaster ground unnaturally. He was soon completely pulled in, and another hand came from the floor and cuffed his other leg, then taking him down like the plaster was made of quicksand. He was pulled down swiftly, until only his waist up remained and he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"What the hell?!" he cried out, now in despair, falling for an obvious trap. His eyes went comical and huge, pale and circled and his mouth was wide open in shock, his expression looking completely abnormal.

Adding even more to his current shock and fear, a few feet in front of him rose a head of hair, then a face, a neck, a shoulder with arms and a body, and then finally legs and feet. The person seemed to climb out slowly with his hair first through a portal of traced darkness and shadow, and as he rose like he was coming out of the dark ocean waters, Zack continued to scream even more in fear, his voice loud and completely freaked out. He felt as if he were about to faint right then and there.

"Do you ever shut up?" Derek said as he stood in a comfortable position in front of Zack, who was still putting his comical mask on, not amusing to the Shadow Minor at all. Derek sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. Zack put a blank expression on his face and there was total silence for a minute, which bothered Derek and seemed abnormal. Derek opened his eyes again, his interest piqued as to why Zack was being so quiet all of sudden. For a minute, he locked stares with Zack, the Wind Minor looking completely calm for a second. Derek sighed again as he found the chance to say something. "You're seventeen years old and the same age as me, yet you act ten years younger than you really are," Derek explained.

Zack blinked twice, his expression completely blank. Then, he let out a ear piercing scream of fear as he realized yet again that half his body was lost in some other dimension who knows where. He screamed loudly, his hands gripping the plaster floor for support, trying to pull himself out of the prison locking his legs, the scream so loud and humorous in intensity that it was like a huge, blood-curdling ear piercing yell that rang in Derek's ears, seeming to last for the rest of his life.

PoVS

The sun hung bright in the sky with the evaporating morning dew. Trees surrounded Mark from far away and the grass whistled with the wind ever so slightly, tickling Mark's feet. Surrounding him even more closely were clay sculpture of himself, come to life and ready to fight. They had been made for training, and he purposely made at least fifty of them to gang up on him.

The hot sun tickled the back of Mark's head, and he looked comfortable and ready in his new clothes. Unique in footwear, he had none, forced to walk barefoot amongst the ground at all times. The cold soil and grass crunched and felt cooling to his hot, sweating feet. The dirt caked between his toes and soles, but he had become used to it. He donned a karate style clothing like fro ma dojo, all brown-grayish, his forelimbs wrapped in white bandages, and this upper chest as well.

A strong, humid gust of wind blew by, and as if initiating the start of the self training session, the sculptures came to life and raced towards Mark with blinding speed. Lots of things flashed differently in front of Mark's quick wandering eyes. A somewhat nervous bead of sweat ran down the side of his face, the hot sun glistening off the perspiration, heating his tanned skinned comfortably. Three clones appeared at Mark's feet, sending a punch toward them. Mark jumped away, dodging a huge tower of dust and exploding rock from a punching trio. He swept away a round sweat drop and shifted his feet, putting himself in a readied position to fight. Other sculptures began to appear one after another, attempting different attacks but all missing thanks to Mark's acrobatic sense of body movement.

The sculptures continued to fling themselves at him, as if hating him for creating them.Mark dodged expertly, his eyes scanning quickly at times to make sure if there were any coming from the corners. I used to think… Mark thought as he moved his body around to dodge a round of punches from different directions. I used to think mastering the tai arts was all I needed in life. Mark ducked to make a roundhouse kick miss. It was all I wanted to do… Mark realized.

The Earth Minor jumped away at the sight of a sweep kick, high jump kicking a sculpture and breaking its head into tiny pebbles and large stones. But I find that now… now as time passes on and on, there are more things that come and present their importance to me that are necessary to live life, and other things as well. Mark remembered what Kanadou had said to him that made him realize something; something that created the only reason Mark won that fight.

_"You think you can just win this fight by relying on physical force only?" Kanadou had told Mark with his power representing robes fluttering in the light wind, his mask concealing his expression. "If so, you're going to die within seconds when you face White Cloak."_

Mark sighed as he sensed about ten or fifteen of clones jumping at him with amazing speed. He held up his fist, gathering his energy that poured into his hands like orange juice from a pitcher at breakfast spilling the icy, inviting liquid onto the glistening glass cup that shone brightly like a star in the sun. Once he felt like he had enough, Mark let out his battle cry and slammed his fist right into the ground, the impact so great that it sent a rambling, visible earthquake all around. Pieces of the ground tilted into rocks and broke away, protruding off the dirt like its own kind of horn or defense. The raging dirt rocks continued to pop from the ground by tilting with great magnitude, like a backwards edition of a domino effect. Mark held his stance steady in the center of the rising ground, his fist still locked into the ground, pouring even more energy out as if the pitcher of energy had shattered.

The rocks tripped, stabbed and did so many other things to the surrounding sculptures, taking away about half of them and making them into nothing but dirt and flint. Now that I know my life isn't just fighting… I feel actually empty, less complete. I thought I found the meaning of my life, but I guess for me, there is none. As he finished his thought, the earthquake began to settle back into its normal condition as flat ground, finally have taken all of the clones' lives. Now, Mark waited for what was next in the hot blazing sun, his perspiration soon taking over his face, his upper back soaked with sweat, showing on his karate-style clothes.


	46. Chapter 46

Rick sighed as his depressing thoughts reined his mind. He sat at his desk in his dark, randomly chosen bedroom from last night. He brushed his hand against the polished, wooden finish. It felt cool to his light fingers. Darkness surrounded him, yet light encircled him as well. It was an unsure physical surrounding he found himself in, as well as an emotional one. What now? He thought, lowering his head towards the table. What now?

He wrapped his arms lightly around himself, feeling the cool air decrease in temperature. He had far past the point where he was surprised to find himself in new clothes. He didn't know what they were for, but he knew they were there for a purpose. That's all he needed to know. White Cloak… he's not just a normal bad guy. He's a real threat, and from what I've heard, not afraid to kill any one of us. The light fabric of his clothes tickled his fingers as he did the same. Although the touch and feel of his new clothing felt comfortable and relaxing, his expression was not amused. Rick put a hand to his blonde down-spiky hair and clutched it lightly, thinking hard. He's ready to kill us and just use us for power… Rick realized. Are we even strong enough to defeat such a strong force? He's been practicing for at least five hundred years, while we've barely been doing this for three months. We shouldn't even think to compare to him. What would make us think that we could?

Suddenly, there was a slight knock on the door. Rick jerked his head up in surprise, and peered to the bedroom door. It was closed with a shadowy silhouette portrayed on the dark, cloudy pane. He realized right away who it was and calmed his sympathetic looking expression. He got up with a grunt, his chair screeching as it was pushed backwards to create space. Rick stood up, using more force than he should. His slippers click-clacked on the floor as he neared the door. His new clothes shuffled as his footsteps raised him slightly up and down, up and down like a boat rocking against the waves.

The cold air seemed to disperse as Rick slid the dim door open, and found Marissa bowing her head down, as if asking for forgiveness in shame. Rick's golden, sympathetic eyes seemed to sadden more as he waited for her to speak politely. She stood there, seeming like she had just finished crying. She raised her head a little so Rick could see her reddened eyes, beads of tiny tears at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth was curved wretchedly, and she gave low moans of uncontrollable tears. Rick gave a beckoning stare.

Aside from her sadness, Marissa looked good in hew new clothes as well. She wore a kind of top that was thick at the neck, wide and long enough to cover up to her mouth. She had a thin, expanding sleeve on her left side, and no sleeve at all on the right. It was gray and pale along with her long shorts and regular sandals that made silent noise when she walked. That's why Rick couldn't sense her presence firsthand when she was walking to his room. Marissa inched closer to Rick and resisted meeting eyes with him a bit. For some reason, she just couldn't let him see her like this. Marissa inched a little more closely, and Rick opened his arms in a welcoming motion. Marissa finally took the jump and let the strong arms take control of her, wrapping around her to give her care when she needed caring for. She cried at his shoulder as Rick stared deeply into space, both of them knowing that they had been thinking the same thing. Marissa was always the one to break down into tears first. Even when they were four years old.

"I…I'm…" Marissa tried to get out, her voice cracking at his shoulder. Wet tears began to seep down through Rick's heavy dark yellow Haori, a type of Japanese style short coat. Marissa's voice came out in a choking whisper, barely forming the words she wanted to get out. Redness surrounded her sincere, azure eyes like cracks punched into a wall. Tears leaked out helplessly, and she felt at least somewhat protected in Rick's arms. She couldn't breathe, but she didn't feel like she needed to. She breathed through her nose a whiff of Rick's scent, and immediately she felt a little calmer. His scent always lifted her emotions to some scale, somehow, someway, it always worked for her.

"I know," Rick said, caressing her back with his right hand. "I know," he repeated in a whisper, quiet and delicate enough for Marissa to calm down. She can't stop crying, Rick realized as he closed his eyes in acknowledgement, trying to comfort his closest friend since as long as he could remember in his strong, protective arms that he grew over the years. The time's finally come where I have to stand up more for her now…

PoVS

Mark looked around with the hot sun blazing even hotter than before above. The solid ground was still somewhat cracked, and bits and pieces of rubble lay on the floor, a token of a memory that lasted a minute. He wiped away another sweat drop of perspiration as he stood in the center of the cracks, surrounded by nothing but dancing grass blades and dirt. Mark looked around, examining his surroundings once more to make sure there were no more to be left behind. He closed his eyes as he peered to the right, and declared loudly, "Come out."

On cue, behind a tree yards away from Mark came out the masked Kanadou. His clothes fluttered with the wind slightly, as if doing their own dance without the body working for them. The swaying sleeves chattered lightly within themselves. Kanadou stepped into the sunlight, feeling the warm sun shine down on his all around spiky brown hair. His mask still concealed his identity like Hibiyomi's was; half of it being black, the other half being white. "What do you want?" Mark asked as he turned slowly and heavily to find Kanadou staring right at him through the crescent cuts in the mask he called eyes.

It feels hard to move with these things, Mark realized finally. I can only ignore them when I'm fighting… "Good news," Kanadou's voice came out in a strong whisper. "Kenneth, the Ice Minor and brother of Daniel, the Life Minor is healed now. He is no longer in a death threatening position. The entire group remains," Kanadou concluded.

"Mm," Mark muttered, acknowledged. He closed his eyes solemnly as he thought hard to himself. "Good to hear," he muttered again, his voice steady and quiet, completely peaceful.

"I see you've finally realized the full extent of what I was telling you about back then," Kanadou said, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Mark groaned, now turning his whole body heavily to face Kanadou only a few yards away. Now that he finally realized what Kanadou was saying, he didn't feel like getting praise for it. Things like that didn't really matter.

"You sure the new clothes aren't too much for you?" Kanadou asked, noticing the slump in Mark's slump in his walking pace. His long sleeves continued to sway with the wind.

"No," Mark said, smiling. He rolled up his sleeves and pants to reveal heavy, old style weights, two on each limb. "Not enough yet," Mark said, overestimating himself.

Kanadou laughed with a serious chuckle. "That's good to hear," he said, making a joking tone in his voice. "Those weights are made with the metal Osmium, about fifteen bars on each weight strap. It's the heaviest metal in the world, you know," Kanadou noted, Mark listening with care, yet still confident he could carry eight of those straps – 120 long, thick bars of osmium with his body.

"Is that so?" Mark said, giving a showy smirk to show his toughness that would soon wear off.

"Yeah," Kanadou answered seriously. "Weighing at a specific gravity of twenty-two point fifty-nine, it weighs twice as much as lead, and is the heaviest metal found. You'll never find another eight pairs of weights like those in the world," Kanadou said, making Mark feel even showier.

"Doesn't matter what it weighs. I'll carry it, as long as it'll make me stronger," Mark said confidently. And beneath that mask of his, Kanadou uttered a short smile as well.

PoVS

"One more chance," Madasora said seriously in the dark hallways, standing in front of Zack who was still cut down to half his size, half of his body lost in the Darkness dimension, otherwise known as the interface between Hell and Earth. The dark hallways were still somehow lit up by nonexistent lights, and Zack put an arrogant and annoyed pose on his face.

"No! I'm not giving up the shoe!" he cried out, clutching the Geta slipper tightly in his left hand. Derek sighed and closed his eyes in tiredness.

"Fine then," Madasora finally accepted, his body limping, one side taller than the other. "I guess I'll see you later then," he said, turning around and taking off his slipper, choosing to walk barefoot amongst the plaster paved halls. He motioned for Derek to walk with him as he walked past slowly and coolly, leaving Zack behind with the feelings of his legs still gone.

"W-Wait!" Zack said, his voice growing loud and pleading again. "You're not really going to leave me here like this, are you?" Zack yelled out even louder this time.

"Of course I am!" Madasora said, barely turning back to catch one last glimpse of Zack as he turned the corner, and disappeared from sight. Zack, all alone now in the lit up darkness, began twitching in his eyebrows.

PoVS to Lance, the Metal Minor

My strokes began softening in intensity as I added the finishing touches of detail into the picture. I sat in the barely lit up room, able to see just enough as I stroked the paintbrush with black ink more and more in the same place, trying to darken it and make it bold as much as I could, using my eye for detail on everything. The brush was getting warmer by the second and felt comfortable in my hand. I felt complete with it, as if it were a part of me that always seemed to be missing when I wasn't painting.

I felt all my emotions pour out on the large paper, getting my thoughts and feelings out as a picture, representing how I felt, sort of like a symbol. I smiled as one bead and one bead only of perspiration rolled down the side of my face. I was tired from working so hard on this one picture. I'm losing my spark, I realized.

I churned a small cup of paint with the brush again, and picked it up and began adding more, bolder values to the painting. The painting portrayed the symbol representing yin and yang over the world, the pale side of the symbol carrying a small sliver of an angel's wing that shone brightly with heavenly light. The pale piece was bright and looked hopeful, tinted with certain shades of bright yellow and strong whites. It was being carried by an angel of peace, its wings spread out widely in help.

The other side represented the bold darkness, a dark aura surrounding that one side. It was being pushed down by a fallen angel, its wings set aflame and dark red with stained blood and deviant claws that burned with its touch. The yin-yang sign hung over a portrayal of a planet like a shield, or blanket. It was completely shaded beneath it, like an eclipse.

Surrounding the picture were billions and billions of stars that were like tiny dots that speckled in the dark, navy blue sky. Wisps of unexplainable energy drafted by like cold winds.

"This…" I spoke out to myself in a whisper, writing my words as I said them aloud in penciled paint as a caption by the picture. "…represents the current condition of our lives right now. It stands for our lack of assurance in our lives of what is to happen next. Will White Cloak really get us and grip us tightly in his hold that crushes and grinds for power? Or will we lift ourselves up with the help from each other, flying high to the skies and far away from the one who craves nothing but power? It's something we'll cry about, brag about, and laugh about every day for the rest of our lives until we finally find the answer," I concluded quietly, finishing the last few words and placing the pencil-brush back into its container. I sighed as I gazed upon my painting. Perfect, I complimented myself.

PoVS

Tsukansu and Minoa sat at a table in a wide room. The table was well-built, and they had a cup of tea while talking to each other about the new problems they'll face. Darkness was swept into wide corners of the room and dim lights set the whole room alight. Cooling temperatures filled the area, and both councils looked as if they were having a great time.

"I see you've finally pulled those two out again," Minoa noted, referring to what Tsukansu had taken out of the closet so hesitantly earlier with Hibiyomi watching at his side. Minoa put a nostalgic smile on her face as she watched the two things, looking all powerful and mighty, glistening in the bright light above.

"Yeah," Tsukansu said, his cheeks becoming just a tiny hint of red. "You can't be too safe, you know?" he said, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, I know," Minoa related, turning to her cup of tea. She gripped it tightly with both of her hands, feeling the hot liquid warm the palms of her hands, feeling the hot, steamy wisps of steam wet her face. She smiled as she watched the fog rise from below.

"So," Tsukansu said, clearing his throat once more. "How's your Minor doing?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

Minoa sighed. She hesitated to tell Tsukansu any of it, but decided that she had to let it out to someone. And Tsukansu could be a great listener if he wanted to. "I don't know what to do about her," Minoa began, feeling her face get wetter by the second as the hot steam rose higher and higher, feeling the cool touch of it on her face, almost calming to Minoa's expression. "She feels like she's totally powerless, but what she doesn't realize is that she has the greatest amount of power out of all the Minors," Minoa said.

"I see," Tsukansu listened carefully. He put a thinking pose on his face, Minoa unaware of whether he was really thinking or not.

"She tries hard, she really does, but the fact that she hasn't changed the way she thinks about the basic fabrics of life is getting in her way to such a level, she can't even activate the first level of Visible Darkness without hurting herself too much to the point where she has to give up at least a body part; a limb or something," Minoa explained, bringing the large teacup to her lips and taking a short sip of it, feeling the warm tea fill her body, even if it was just for a second. It felt immediately calming, but her worry soon came back to bite with a stronger grip.

Tsukansu sighed and looked down in deep thought. "I've tried to make her realize that things aren't the way she sees them as, but…" Minoa trailed off for a second, hesitating. Then she decided that she really, really couldn't hold it in any longer, and couldn't stop at this point. "She just doesn't listen."

"You know what?" Tsukansu began to suggest. Minoa blinked blankly with a dull expression painted on her face as she pleaded Tsukansu for the answer silently with her delicate eyes. "I think its best if you…" his voice trailed off for a moment. He gripped his steaming teacup tightly, his eyes closed as he processed loads and loads of thoughts into his mind. "…if you let her be, and let her find out everything on her own," Tsukansu explained. Minoa widened her eyes in acknowledgement.

"What do you mean?" Minoa asked, brushing her hand through her gray-white hair.

"I mean, let her find out everything her own way. If you try to force it in to her, she won't listen, and you'll mess everything up. It's a good thing she's not listening to you," Tsukansu explained. "Just let her be, and let it go for now." Minoa gave a small sigh and looked down. She realized that now… Tsukansu was right.


	47. Chapter 47

Darkness pooled around Jeremy like a cell of some sort that he was forever bidden to be locked up in for the rest of his life. Jeremy lay down with my eyes half open, not sure of whether he should fall asleep or stay awake. It seemed so hard to even make that kind of decision now. The sheets lay at Jeremy's side like a mound full of soft, pale comfort. His bed was far from the door, where darkness seemed to cover that part f the room like a blanket.

Jeremy thought hard, not wanting to believe what his final thoughts were telling him. It seems that more and more now… he realized. As time passes on, they seem more concerned with the Minors, and less and less concerned with me. Jeremy sighed as he ran his fingers down the mountain of sheets. It felt soothing to his skin, yet felt like sandpaper to his heart. Then, he picked up his hand and ran it down the cold gold of the locket, its structures cragged and icy. He caressed it until he felt the ruby red crystal sphere that was embedded in the middle of the front of it. It all meant nothing… he thought.

It was bad enough for me to feel insecure about everything in the beginning, but now this… Jeremy thought. Jeremy sighed both inside and out and closed his eyes, deciding to go to rest and leave the current world he knew for now.

From far away, there seemed to be a distant knock. It interrupted Jeremy's resting of eyes and forced him to reopen the pure white orbs and turn his head to peer hard into the darkness, yet find nothing. A visitor…? Jeremy thought quietly, not making a move to get up.

The door suddenly opened a crack delicately, spilling light into the room and sweeping away the webs of darkness that had covered in like a blanket. Framed with the light was the figure of Hyoumaru, holding the doorknob in full control. His smile shone into the room, forcing an inviting look in Jeremy's eyes.

PoVS to Narrative Jeremy

"Hyoumaru…?" I whispered out, my voice weak and unenthusiastic.

"Ah, Jeremy-san. How are you doing?" Hyoumaru said, flashing a friendly smile with closed, crinkled eyes, talking as if he had just run into Jeremy on the street.

"What're you doing here?" Jeremy whispered lowly, so low that he made sure Hyoumaru didn't hear him.

Even so, as if Hyoumaru had the best hearing in the world, he replied, "I hope you're not too tired. It's time for the second part of their training to begin."

"Second…part?" Jeremy spoke wearily. His eyes were wide and slanted with wonder, trying to search hard in his memory for what he was talking about, finding the answer almost immediately.

After another smile and a blank stare, I got up quickly from bed and pushed all my thoughts from before into the back corners of my mind. Those were the last things I needed to think about, I realized. I kicked the sheets away from my legs that seemed to hold on to me, like not wanting to let me go just as I felt about the Council. The darkness was cold against my warmed feet, and to be truthful, I felt a bit guilty for doing the same thing to the bed sheets as what I didn't want the Council to be doing to me. But if I even said anything about my extended metaphor, everyone would think I was crazy. Plus, no one needs to know about my thoughts. They'd see me for the real, insecure being for who I am and always will be. I once wished that I would change, but sometimes, I learned along the way, that things aren't meant to be changed just yet.

I rushed out through the dying cobwebs of darkness and ran to open the door wider, letting more light in. I forced a smile at Hyoumaru who gave a meaningful one back. I put a crooked grin as I closed the door behind me and we started walking in whatever direction he wished to.

The hallways were dimly lit with candles. This was one of the lucky parts of the labyrinth part of the dimension. It actually had candles instead of flickering lights, but even then would the hallways be barely lit. The kindling flame held an orb of orange light on its head. Its face flickered violently, an unstable expression on its face. Tiny sparks now and then floated into the sky, and the tiny flames seemed so alive. We paced down the hallways together, his shoes clicking loudly while my steps were delicate and unnoticeable like a mouse.

I cleared my throat in case I needed to talk for later. Hyoumaru gave me an acknowledged look, thinking I had called upon him. I decided to pretend I was since I was put under the impression all ready.

"So uh…" I began, not knowing what to say. I looked hard at the darkness ahead, trying to lose myself in an appropriate thought. What to say…What to say? "What do you mean it's time?" I choked out randomly, my voice not fully cleared yet.

Hyoumaru seemed to sigh tiredly. I wonder what he's been going through lately, I thought mockingly. It was a good thing Hyoumaru wasn't the one who could hear thoughts. That ability belonged to the much more advanced Minoa. But even so, she was never one to eavesdrop on others' thoughts.

He didn't seem to be answering so I began speaking again. "I mean, I thought they had a chance to rest up or something. It's only been a day, barely," I pointed out, trying to make myself smarter for asking the question before.

This time, he seemed more satisfied. "Yes. But it seems they are so amazing they rested up in less than a day," Hyoumaru said quietly. He finished his sentence as we turned the corner to find the other end of the hallway.

I looked down to find even more darkness ahead, and just when I thought it was getting to be finally over, more comes out of nowhere to represent its distance to me. "I see," I told him, looking hard on the floor. Ebony surrounded it, blinding without lights to my eyes. They really are amazing… I thought depressively.

Moments later, I found myself in the midst of a half lit up room, the wide, spacious area barely set alight. All the Minors and councils, and me, were gathered up in that room. The place was tinted with darkness, flickering brightness, and orange plaster. The air there seemed to be cooler than the rest, and everyone seemed to be in a high emotional state for some reason. How much could half a day do to them? Just what kind of people are they if they can heal in half a day from injuries from a council, and become so seemingly emotionally unstable?

The Council was backed up to the front of the room, where everyone was watching them. Hyoumaru had left my side to join the rest of his fellow mates, and I stood next to the group of Minors whom were listening very closely and carefully, knowing that whatever they had to say as a group was very important/

I looked around to find all the Minors staring hard in different ways with different expressions. Eric, the Fire Minor had a serious lock on his face, as if sealing away any emotion of his, like he was thinking as hard as I was from before when I was alone in the privacy of my room. Walter had almost the same look with serious eyes that seemed to be meaner and narrower than Eric's, and Dylan had a cheerful smile on his face, confident that he was going to pass whatever they threw at him. They all looked so different in their old style Japanese clothing. They almost seemed… special. Something they really were. This would be a sight to remember, all of them grouped together like this, I thought.

Rick stood by Marissa proud and strong, while the Sound Minor had reddened, wet eyes as if she had just been crying a million tears. Teresa lost her straightjacket for another kind of long sleeves type of clothing, and had a glistening face that seemed she had a set of tears on her face as well, even though her eyes were as normal as could be. She looked down in deep thought as well.

Derek stood next to Zack, looking as if he were on watch like a patrol officer. Zack was on one knee solemnly, rubbing his ankles as if he had just lost them, muttering something under his breath that seemed to make Derek get madder by the second, his face growing comical. Lance stood in the corner of the group silently and by himself, sketching something in his book as he whispered words to himself, his silver hair falling to the front of his face, the Metal Minor not caring to brush them behind his ears, and last but not least, the Takiato Brothers stood next to each other, making it obvious that they were close. Daniel had a serious, tough look on his face and Kenneth put a friendly smile that would make anyone warm right down to the heart.

Hanabikai cleared his throat in a call for attention. Everyone followed, including me. We all looked up to find the twelve councils standing up against the wall, all aligned next to each other as if we were about to examine them, looking more powerful than us for some reason like they really were.

"Wow," Hanabikai muttered loudly into the room. "You guys sure healed fast," he complimented. He cleared his throat yet again and put a fist to his mouth. "Anyway, aside from that fact, the second part of your training begins now."

After he said so, there were a few given moans and groans throughout the room, Hanabikai waiting respectively. Zack was especially the loudest. "Listen," Derek muttered loudly. "Be quiet before I stick you halfway through the wall again. You're lucky I even let you out the first time. If it was up to me, you'd be stuck there for an entire month. Maybe even more. Got it?" he said, making sure everyone heard him.

A few people peered to see what was going on. Zack made a large gulp down his throat and quietly muttered reluctantly, "Yeah."

"Anyway," Hanabikai continued. "There's a few concepts to this part than to the last part, so I say we go there first, and then explain," Hanabikai announced, tracing a symbol against the wall behind him with his fingers artistically and quickly, as if shuffling randomly on the orange plaster. Seconds later was found a glowing portal that was framed by a Japanese-looking temple that glowed with a ghostly light. The red gate had paper lanterns at its side and was glowing red with much ominous. Everyone seemed to stare in awe with silent mutters that seemed noticeable in the eternal silence.

Hanabikai made a hand motion for them to go in, and shuffled his feet inside, disappearing immediately. The rest of the councils at his side followed, and the Minors followed soon after. And I, lastly, with a huge gulp of wonder with hints of fear, stepped in, and lost myself in the swirling portal.

Moments later, I found myself with the rest of the group in a cold surrounding; colder than the Inner World. For sure, I knew that we were in the Outer World by now, and we were surrounded by sunlit ground on one side, and lush, dark trees on the other side. The air felt cool and refreshing to my legs, yet thick and poisonous at some point as well, like the air had an aftertaste. The hot sun was on our backs, hanging like an emblem in the azure world above. Birds chirping and snake hissings were surrounding us, and the councils stood in front of the Minors once again with Hanabikai in the middle.

A few Minors found themselves murmuring about the place and how they haven't been to the Outer World in a while, almost two complete days yet still feeling somehow different.

"Okay!" Hanabikai called for attention. The murmuring immediately stopped and eyes turned to find Hanabikai and the rest of the councils standing in front of a fenced forest. The metal fence seemed like a net that trapped everything inside, as if locking something up in there. Darkness filled the depths of it when you peered inside it, even though it was a very sunlit afternoon. Hanabikai cleared his throat once more and began to talk. "This is where it all begins," he explained, making an obvious point. "…and this is how it works," he said, motioning a hand sign by his side, putting on a friendly, instructor like smile on. "This place is not known to many, and is a place where many of the few who know of it are banished because of their danger to society. Why are they so dangerous?" Hanabikai asked a rhetorical question. "Because and only because of the fact that they have amazing strong powers, just like you guys, but use it completely the wrong way from an unexplainable source. Most of the ones who live in the depths of this swamp behind me are psychotic in the mind, so watch out."

"Many of them also have lots of hate, and kill for the fun of it. They don't care about human lives and at this point, you shouldn't care either for other lives except for your own and each other's," Tsukansu explained, clutching two long things held together by his waist in his fist tightly. "Killing most likely will be essential, and watching your back while remaining a cool head is as well essential," he explained.

"This place is known as Swamp of Mystery. You will be forced to stay here for seven days exactly," Minoa announced by herself.

"Seven day-!" Zack was about to outburst but was soon found held back by Derek, a hand cupped around his mouth with his eyes wide open, his limbs moving frantically as Derek's available arm held his stomach to keep him from moving.

"Really, this guy…" Derek said tiredly, sighing an exasperated sigh with his eyes closed, wishing he could go to sleep.

Raikettei cleared his throat for attention. "The atmosphere of this area is deadly, not to mention the dangerous animals that live in this swamp as well," he said. "You will be separated into four groups of three, each group covering one of four gates to stay in for the task. You will be assigned a fixed amount of food to each team to last you the whole week."

On cue, four different councils threw four different colored backs in between them and the Minors. I watched carefully and in awe as to what their task was. Even I didn't know of this place, I realized.

"You are to use nothing but teamwork, understand?" Shihou said in a demanding voice, making that decision clear and final.

"Pretty easy thing to do if you just look at the task at hand," Madasora said friendlily, the twittering bird at his shoulder doing a dance or parade of some sort.

"Now," Kanadou said creepily through his frightening mask. "These will be the four groups and which gate they are assigned to," he announced.

Muttering took place, shuffling through the Minors part of the group. "Kahibi Eric, Kasumi Walter, and Samakuro Mark consist of Team One," Kanadou rasped out. "They will be taking the West Gate, otherwise known as the Gate of Shirotora, the White Tiger Gate," Kanadou explained.

The members of the group gave solemn looks on their face. Mark gave a confident nod and a smile afterwards.

"Group Two," Dirondo said, taking over. "…will consist of Kumoyama's Rick, Kawarimi Marissa, and Souzoku Lance. They'll be heading for the Gate of Doragon no Emerarudo, also known as the Gate of the Emerald Dragon located in the east" Dirondo said declaratively. She made a victory sign by the side of her face and smiled a beautiful smile, the two beaded strands of brown hair falling over her face, somehow making the wide grin even more elegant.

The recent team's announcement spread both agony and happiness for Marissa, sighing at the fact she had to be stuck with Lance, and smiling at the fact she could be someone she was all ready close with and was sure who wouldn't let her down.

"Group Three," Hyoumaru said, clearing his throat. "…is going to be made up of Yomi Derek, Nonbiri Zack, and Kokori Dylan. They'll go for Hebi Gate, or the Serpent Gate in the north.."

"Damn it." Derek muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest and closing his eyes in an annoyed way. "I really have to be stuck with that guy?" he said, motioning a finger slightly towards Zack.

Zack blinked twice in stupidity before realizing what exactly had happened. "Hey!" he shouted. "What's that supposed to mean?" he cried out in a comical anger.

"What do you think it's supposed to mean?!" Derek said in an even stronger comical anger, his arms still crossed in front of him. Dylan formed a humorous sweat drop down the side of his face and smiled eagerly, snickering as he thought what kind of trouble being with those two will cost him.

Mindlessly, the Council continued. This time, Shintenmaru spoke. "Lastly, Group Four is made up of Takiato's Kenneth and Daniel, along with Miroku Teresa, whom together will be aiming for the Gate no Tori, also named as the Vermillion Gate of the South."

The two brothers gave a knowing smiled to each other as Teresa just looked up and sighed aimlessly, as if not noticing her name had just been called. Her wandering, violet eyes peered up into the also swaying sky and glimmered brightly in the faint sunlight. Her sigh was peaceful to hear yet despairing to experience.

"Now that everything has been settled, does anyone have any questions?" Hibiyomi creepily said with his body surrounded by a mysterious dark aura in the dead sunlight.

"Yeah, just one," Walter mentioned, raising his hand slightly. Everyone looked in his direction to find his expression toward the floor and his eyes closed with a smirk. "Why is this place called the Swamp of Mystery?" he asked, letting out his question high under his breath.

"Because…" Raikettei chose to answer. "Things happen in this place… that are completely unexplainable," he bluntly said coolly.

That moment, Zack stopped moving his limbs in a craze but let his wide eyes remain even wider, his mouth and stomach wrapped in Derek's restraining arms.

Zack soon began to resume his indistinctive moving of his arms and legs, and closed his eyes, as if trying hard to do something. "Ow!" Derek cried out seconds later, removing his hand from Zack's mouth quickly and letting him fall back to the floor, shaking his hand frantically, putting an expression of pain on his face. "You bit me!" Derek cried out, wiping spit on his Japanese Style coat with a comical frantic look on his face, his expression also locked with a bit of disgust.

"Hold on just a second!" Zack cried out just as humorous, Derek behind him in pain and agony. "You're saying that all we have to do is just survive in the place of wackos for a week without dying and eating as much as we want, and we pass immediately?" he cried out, pointing a finger at Hanabikai.

"Yeah, that's basically it," Hanabikai answered, stuffing his hands into his robe pockets and closing his eyes.

"Ha, then that means it's going to be an easy task after all," Zack said with a wink.

"Okay, if you say so," Minoa said with a smile. Zack opened his eyes widely with a puzzled expression, expecting a reaction different from what they gave him. "Just make sure that… you don't die," Minoa said finally. Zack's expression went all obvious again and slumped down towards the floor.

"Anyway," Shintenmaru said, clearing his throat. He pushed open the gate behind him and it opened widely with a creak, entering into the darkness with the sunshine fading away from it. Darkness seemed to pour out of the entrance. "You guys should hurry in. We're entering from the southeast, so some of you have a long way to go. Let's start moving!" he declared, initiating the second and final part of the Minors' training.


	48. Chapter 48

Afternoon sunlight spilled in random places through the filtering trees, spots of pale warmth caressing varying patches of grass with a fake love. Wind was a word nonexistent in the dictionary of the Swamp of Mystery, and its surroundings. The Minors and Council and Jeremy stood at the South-East opening, finishing up last thoughts before they were about to begin their final session. Dark, damp trees filled the inner part of the gated swamp, clouded with darkness and mystery. The deathly-looking leaves glistened in the bare light. Vines tangled within each other in a lock of hate, dangling from the thick branches. Animals of all sorts and sizes that seemed unnatural lived and crawled through the wet dirt and decaying life.

"Okay!" Madasora concluded. He brushed his fingers through his long, white hair and smiled with the pipe limp between his teeth, releasing a stream of grayness into the air. "You guys should start going in now," he insisted, practically pushing them through the weak, rusty gates that shook whenever someone would touch them from the outside.

A few moaned and began to walk nervously into the swamp, their steps unsteady and unsure. They had crooked grins of panic painted under their noses. They walked in through a crooked line, most of them looking like they were to collapse unconscious on the floor any second.

"Good luck!" Madasora wished with a smile, pretending as if they were just going to the playground for some fun, and not to a dangerous swamp known for its deadly history. His waving hand and wide smile made it look like he was sending the Minors off to pre-kindergarten.

The shortest being there, little Jeremy, walked up to Madasora and tugged at his sleeves. He peered up to find his head outlined with light, as if he were an angel with the brightest halo. Jeremy tugged harder, not feeling like using his voice right now.

Slowly, Madasora came to acknowledge him. "Hm? What is it, Jeremy-san?" he whispered in a low voice, peering down to find white eyes staring back at him.

"They're…" Jeremy began to whisper out, using a forced voice, a loud cough interrupting his voice. "They're going to be gone for the whole week?" he asked, a bit clearer this time.

"Yes, that's right," Madasora retorted. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," Jeremy lied. The ten year old boy put a big grin on his face and thought, Yes. I'll make them realize that I still exist!

Just as Jeremy finished his thought, the last Minor walked through the gate. With a big push, Madasora closed the gate with his palm, and it shut with a loud, rusty clang. The ping echoed through everyone's ears, yet easy to ignore.

Inside, Zack, the loudest, most uproarious Minor's back began to twitch. He froze in his tracks, and shivered all over. His group turned back to see what was the problem, but all they found was a lost, panicky stare all over his face. With sudden, amazing speed, he sped toward the gates comically, clouds of dust surrounding his feet as he ran, shaking the ground humorously.

Madasora let out a resistant cry and put a finger towards the gates, signaling Zack to stop. "I wouldn't," Madasora warned. "The gates are electrified from the inside. Anything that tries to come out will get shocked with a million or so watts."

"But…" Zack began to complain, humorous tears beginning to streak down his face like thick white rivers of squiggly lines. "But… but!" he continued to mutter, not knowing what to say, the words lost in his stomach like a scrabble game's silver bag.

"Go on," Madasora insisted, waving his hand in a "shoo, shoo," manner, indicating that he wanted Zack to rejoin his group.

Zack continued to mutter indistinctively and finally gave up. He sighed in failure and began to walk back to Derek, who was shaking his head in a sort of disappointment with his eyes closed.

"Oh, and one more thing," Madasora said, catching the Minors before they separated to their assigned gates. Everyone turned back to find a serious lock on Madasora's expression. "Come back with scars," he insisted.

Shocked expressions went all around on the Minors side, and then finally Jeremy's side.

"There is only two ways you can come back, after all," Madasora said, showing two fingers, as if counting them down as he said each one. "One way is with scars," he said, putting one finger down into a fist. Everyone listened quietly and solemnly, meticulous as to what the council had to say. "The other way," Madasora began, peering from left to right to catch a glimpse of the Minors' facial expressions. "Is to not come back at all," he said finally, holding down the last finger to make a fist.

"What the…" Zack said, his back slouched with his arms dangling from the shoulders, his eyes dotted like bullets you find on a computer screen.

"So?" Madasora said loudly. "What're you waiting for? Go!" he announced.

Sighs went all around and everyone decided to finally obey, separating with high speed into their rightful groups, heading for their gates.

Group Three raced through the damp forest and wood, flying from one branch to another just by jumping. Derek was first, his steps light and careful, yet strong and meaningful. "I can't believe we have to do something so sudden," he complained under his breath. "I also can't believe I have to be stuck here with this guy, and get assigned to the farthest gate," he said, referring to Zack who had no idea Derek was talking about him lowly in a whisper to himself. Derek sighed as he wondered if his group was really going to survive.

Group One raced with even more speed, consisting of the Water, Fire, and Earth Minors. Walter held an anguished expression on his face even though he wasn't really mad at anything at the moment.

Eric held the same expression yet a kinder, welcome one. Mark concealed his emotions with a narrow stare that meant nothing but toughness.

Behind them by many feet away crawled out a large centipede the size of ten rulers behind a tree, its creepy legs scraping on the bark. It was painted a jewel yellow, and made no noise whatsoever.

Eric stopped on one branch and turned around, the two other members of the group passing him by a few feet, then stopping on their own branches. Eric showed out his hand and out came a huge stream of fire. The burning flames lit up the damp brown of the swamp, and made a direct hit, consuming the centipede in its breath. The orange flames wore off of the Minors' faces and soon, they continued to advance.

"Got to be careful of the things that live here, too," Eric muttered, jumping from branch to branch again followed by the other two. Cool damp breezes brushed against him that he made himself. The wet bark began to slime on his hands. Sunlight soon faded away completely, the canopy of bushy trees above becoming so thick it was like gum. The smell of decay and dewy grass filled the air.

Mark bean to jump ahead, sensing something of his own. He held back his fist as he jumped toward a tree in front of him, gravity pulling him down by the second. He pummeled his fist into the thick, damp tree and it split in two, releasing clouds of dust and a hidden serpent that flew out like a rope from a high elevation.

The snake landed on the dirt in a craze, soon followed by Mark. The Earth Minor stood bare feet away from the snake as it was consumed in wrapping soil. It was then compressed into the ground and Mark let out a battle cry as he crashed his fist into the soil again, feeling the coolness creep into his fingers.

There was a sudden shake to the ground and the snake was now for sure dead. Mark held his stance carefully as he looked up, soil caking the side of his face. "Things that live here like that?" he muttered proudly.

Group Two was the team full of mixed emotions. The three ran through the dirt, wanting to get to their destination faster than anyone else. Rick lead in the front, followed by Marissa at his side, and Lance a little behind the two.

I'm lucky to have Rick on the same team as I, Marissa realized, feeling the cool air brush against her one sleeveless arm as she ran past with full speed. Truthfully, she admitted to herself. I would be so lost in this part of the training without him.

"Wait!" Lance suddenly cried out. He froze in his tracks and put his hand out, a long silver blade protruding with lightning speed from the palm of his hand. The blade glimmered in the faint sunlight as it crashed dead into a branching tree above, giving a blunt thud against the wood.

"What is it?" Rick asked, stopping in his tracks frantically as well as Marissa followed suit.

As Lance drew back the blade into the palm of his hand, he answered slightly, "We're being followed," with a whisper. Marissa took a sharp gasp of panic mixed with surprise as her eyes widened in horror and her expression froze from alarm.

Meanwhile, Group Four raced through the towering trees as well by foot. Teresa followed the two Takiato brothers as they ran together side by side, giving each other trustworthy and loyal smiles back to back.

Someone who doesn't want bonds working with two others who are used to making them so efficiently and automatically… Teresa thought as she watched the two brothers run with a good amount of speed, their steps in sync. This doesn't look too good, Teresa realized. I might just leave this place different, or not leave at all…Teresa realized, closing her eyes gracefully as she felt dampness rush throughout her clothes and long, baggy sleeves.

Back outside of the Swamp and beyond the gates, Jeremy looked into the Japanese temple like portal. He watched the swirling blues and greens swim around in spirals like a flushing toilet. It almost seemed hypnotizing to him before he actually stepped in. He awoke from his trance and looked back, finding no sign of the Minors anymore at the entrance gate, not even the resistant Zack.

He sighed as his hair was brushed with the soft, rare wind that came every so often. He looked forward again to find the hypnotizing swirl. He sighed again and stepped in, losing himself in the spiraling colors.

Good luck, he thought finally as he stepped in, being consumed by the light. I hope you wish me good luck as well…

Far away from where the Minors began traveling, another Japanese Style Temple-like portal was opened up. It was outside the swamp, and swirled with a sickening purple and flashing red. It almost seemed demonic if someone were to stare into the holographic colors that swam like a bubble released into the air.

It was surrounded by the wet grass that was soon to die, and all other creepy animals watching the portal. It gave off no sign of any presence and just looked solemn, as if a monument for something.

Long after it had appeared, someone – or something stepped out. The presence looked to the gate with solemnity and said nothing, making no noise. The thing felt the cool air around it, creeping all over its clothes thoroughly like loving hands that had a deathly touch. And, as the portal was about to close, the thing felt the cool, wet grass under its feet, barely touching it with its pale, white shoes.


	49. Chapter 49

Lance felt the cool air seep slowly into his skin as the metal blade sunk back in his body as flesh, bone, and blood. It felt rough in his body as it slowly deformed into what it used to be, leaving no marks on the outside of his body. He watched the tree he struck a pale sliver into as he thought hard silently, the rest of his team watching his unchanging expression, hoping it to change.

Hm… Lance thought in his mind secretly. "False alarm," he muttered, placing his arm back to his side, turning forward to continue on to their gate.

Marissa gave a long sigh as she swept her hand across the dark tree bark, trying to prevent herself from falling. She looked like she was about to go unconscious as she felt her breath leave her lungs quickly. "Don't scare me like that!" she demanded, pulling herself back up, her legs a bit unsteady. Her slender narrow sticks she called support seemed uncomfortable in the uneven soil. Her delicate fingers couldn't seem to let go of the cragged wood.

No… Lance thought, taking one last look at the tiny, thin cut he marked on the tree, the tiny sliver glimmering slightly in a dying sunlight. Something was there… but what? Lance thought, narrowing his stare. It feels like something is watching us… but whenever I check, it seems to disappear. How strange. Lance thought, holding up the team with his subconscious thoughts. "Just what kind of things live in this place anyway?" he muttered to himself quietly.

"Okay," Rick called attention, the other two turning their heads immediately. Marissa's hair whipped around like a spinning flower in the strong breeze. Lance turned his head slightly, half his attention still behind him.

"I'll stay in the back, just in case," Lance insisted, motioning for the other two Minors to run off ahead of him. Lance turned back once more for a second, then began to zoom off with the others, trying to catch up.

"Good luck," Rick wished his arms flinging by his side like opening and reopening fans.

"Yes," Lance accepted, unable to take his mind off of the reoccurring presence. Lance swallowed a huge lump that would have soon consumed his throat. That feeling… Lance thought, trailing off. Got to be careful, just in case. Lance ran quickly, his feet shuffling through the ground smoothly yet tangled-like. He held a hand close to his chest and watched as he felt weight form on his cool palms. Sunlight glimmered on floating, forming silver spheres that bubbled out of his hands like soap in water.

PoVS

Daniel sat up on the cold soil, the wet ground unsteady to his pants. He was sure that by now they were caked with all sorts of dust and dirt. He rummaged through the food sack, observing and counting how much food they had to last them the week. One week to eat all this… he thought as he peered hard into the piles of angel cakes, jelly cakes, cupped tea, and all other things. About… ten thousand calories worth of food in this bag, Daniel counted for the third time.

The plastic wrapping of certain foods crackled as they were touched, the sounds making him hungrier by the second, but he knew he had to stay on task. Ten thousand calories is exactly enough to last one person five days on a regular diet. Among three people… Daniel did the easy math in his head. Its one day and two-thirds of a day, which is also expressed as forty hours exactly and a little longer to last for us than that. I see.

"So the food was purposely made to short to provide more obstacles that would stand in our way for the week, and with all the poisonous plants and fruit here…" Daniel trailed off. His glasses reflected a decaying sunlight as he let out an obvious and huge sigh.

Meanwhile, Teresa stood a few feet in front of Daniel. She had a mean glare on, and her purple hair was dark and shaded in tone from all the dominant shadow. Her violet eyes peered from left to right, her mental and emotional systems busy. Cold air surrounded her that she ignored, and she desperately tried to force out the first level of Visible Darkness. Fading pentacles flashed in her eyes hesitantly, like a ghostly sight that was just a hallucination to the human eye.

Through her hard working eyes, she only saw traces and outlines of things in her path. She wondered hard about what they were, and dark, despairing whispers filled her ears. What… what's going on? She thought as she tried hard to keep her bare ability up. Her violet hair fell in front of her face but she ignored it. Ghostly figures showed barely, and seemed to dilate in appearance.

Suddenly, a hell stabbing pain hit the back of her eyes, forcing her to close her eyes for protection. She cried out as she fell to her knees, the pain soon overwhelming half her face. She squinted hard beneath the protection of her eyelids, and the deathly hurt soon wore off into a shimmer. I can't keep it up… Teresa realized. Why? Why could I keep it up before the Minors found me, yet I can't use it at all afterwards?

Her sudden pain and moaning caught Kenneth's attention. He came from behind a tree swiftly, looking for the problem. The sudden cry pulled Daniel away from his thoughts and caused his head to jerk up a bit, his eyes wide with surprise and just a distant kind of fear.

"You okay?" Kenneth asked, nearing Teresa with caution. His feet stepped lightly on the half dead grass.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Teresa pushed Kenneth away, holding a hand in his direction so he wouldn't come closer. She covered her eyes with her other hand as she tried to push even the slight pain into the back of her throat.

"What's wrong? Did you find something?" Daniel asked, losing his thoughts completely. He soon ignored everything else except the safety of Teresa.

"No," Teresa lied. "Nothing's wrong, nothing at all," she insisted. She swept her sleeve across her lidded eyes and forced them to open, feeling immense pain as she felt the stabbing effort take over her. I pushed it too far, she realized. She cried out again as she collapsed to the floor for the second time.

She could feel the sympathetic and curious stares on her back, wandering all over her, yet finding nothing. "I'm fine now," she said as she got back up to her feet, opening her eyes to a squint. Everything in her eyes was shaded purple for some reason. Great, she thought. I really, really can't do anything at all, she thought.

Kenneth cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject. "Anyway," he began. "We should stick together," he said, calling Daniel forward. Daniel obeyed and he soon found himself at Kenneth's side

"Yeah," his brother agreed. "We don't know what might come after us, and at this point, we're sitting ducks," Daniel explained. He picked up his glasses forward his nose. He felt they were getting so greasy that they were about to fall from his nose like feet on wet, flat ice.

"We should camp up or somewhere, make a place where we could keep ourselves safe in the meanwhile," Kenneth explained, motioning his arms in the air, feeling the cool breezes brush against his forearms. Daniel nodded in agreement. "But where?" Kenneth asked, looking around, then above and below. "Underground? In the trees?" he insisted several possibilities.

"No," Daniel rejected. The two brothers continued talking as Teresa just stood there, searching for any signs of longing pain that remained in her body, squinting her eyes now and then once in a while. "We don't know what kind of societal dangers live where specifically," Daniel reminded. "We'll have to try above the surface. It's where we can actually sense any of them coming towards us and posing a threat. Anywhere else would be out of our element," Daniel informed, brushing his fingers down the side of his face.

"Then, I guess," Kenneth said, peering to Teresa with two fingertips upon his chin. "For that, we'd need Teresa," she said, catching the Mind Minor's attention.

Teresa sighed as she tried hard to concentrate. Slowly, she began to push away the ground and lift things out of the ground.

PoVS

Okay, we're closing in, Eric realized as his team rushed through the forest. Trees passed by like zooming walls that failed their purpose. Light flashed in patterns that was almost unhealthy as they ran side by side, feeling the rush of their own winds flutter down their clothes.

"Okay, this is what I think we should do," Eric said, expressing his thoughts. His arms swung at his side like crazed machines serving their purpose and their purpose only. They moved so manually, like they were in perfect proportions and motion.

His voice caught the attention of his team members. They turned their heads to find the back of the Fire Minor about to say his plans. "We've got three of the Base Minors in one team," he noted. "We should have a good chance at succeeding this. We also of course, should stay together, and we have a variety of moves in our arsenal," Eric said.

Walter muttered slightly in agreement with a narrow stare, his hair bouncing up and down slightly as his fast paced feet rushed through the soil.

"Yeah," Mark agreed, feeling wind push his body backward.

"All of us should be ready to support each other with our powers, and since we have a limited amount of food for energy, we have to savor that," Eric noted as well.

"Mm," Walter muttered, his feet growing barely tired as they shuffled in the air.

"Looks like you guys all got that," Eric said, not turning back to find their expressions painted on their faces seriously. "We'll definitely win this then," Eric concluded.

PoVS

I rustled in the cloudy, lush bushes, and pushed them away from my face. I saw three young boys rush by, the one running headfirst shouting to the two others behind.

I smiled as a new though sprout in my mind. "Oh?" I whispered, peering out of the clouding plant life that spilled specks of sunlight in. "Visitors?" I said in my raspy voice. My body felt uncomfortable waiting in the dirt, my back heavy with uneasiness. "It's been so long since I've had visitors," I noted in a raspy voice. "And I've gotten so… hungry," I muttered to myself, licking my lips, feeling my long tongue smack around my lips, dampening the sides of my; mouth.

PoVS

No sign of any enemies just yet, Derek thought as he sat comfortably against the tree. He sat up, feeling bored as he let the cold, numbing light spill on his face in tiny dots. It's so boring here… the Shadow Minor thought as he peered from left to right, looking for something unusual to at least notice. The desperate teenager found nothing. Maybe the societal dangers are scared of Zack, too, he thought as he let out a huge sigh of boredom.

Derek looked up to find clouds of canopies of trees above him. They looked so hopeful yet despairing at the same time, the dark green ominous to his eyes. Through the tiny holes that filtered sunlight, Derek found the rolling clouds that blistered bright, white light. Crashing filled the Minor's ears as yellow brightness blanketed his face in a kind of fearful protection.

It's about to rain soon… Derek realized as his eyes were stuck above, his sockets unable to find them again. Derek sighed and thought, might as well…

He felt around the side of him, trying to find something, yet finding nothing. "Hm?" he muttered as he felt more frantically now, forcing his eyes to peer at both his sides. Now he knew for sure that what he was looking for wasn't there. "Where'd the food go?" he muttered to himself.

He got up on his feet with a strong struggle and looked back, peering to where he had last seen Zack and Dylan. "Do you guys know where the…?" Derek was cut off as he found the two teammates, and he didn't like what he saw.

He pointed a finger towards them as he caught their attention, and his mouth dropped open comically, his eyes turning pale and circled with humor.

"Hm? What is it, Derek-san?" Dylan asked, noticing his teammate first, his voice choked and filled.

Derek said nothing, and his finger began to shake as it pointed directly at the two people. Over there in the midst of a barrier of trees, Derek found the two boys separated by a blanket, with food spread all over it that was covered with bites and chews, and the food bag against the tree, limp and empty.

Zack was chewing indistinctively and Dylan stared at Derek with wondering eyes with moving cheeks and teeth. Empty plates filled the green blanket that sort of camouflaged with the dead grass.

"Hey!" Derek accused. "It's barely been half a day and you guys ate all the food?!" he blamed, his voice loud and completely vindicated in this matter. His comical expression would never wipe away.

Dylan flashed an innocent smile and snickered slightly in guilt. Zack looked completely out of it, sitting comfortably on the floor with his eyes closed and mouth moving nonstop.

"Tell me there's more," Derek said, his voice returning.

"Nope, sorry," Dylan said, smiling even wider.

"How're we going to last the rest of the week with no food !" Derek began to scold. He sighed deep in his mind, saving it for later for a calmer time. "How am I going to survive?" he asked himself as his expression went a comical depressed.


	50. Chapter 50

The night was cold and dimming with its barren mist. At the West Gate, or better known as the Gate of the White Tiger, an eighteen year old boy named Kahibi Eric held the axe high in the air. It seemed to glimmer in the growing, icy moonlight.

It hung high in a showy way, jerking its head back to pose powerfully. Eric cried out as he swung the tool downward, hearing the sickening chop of wood fill his ears. Sweat drops glittered his body and took friendly strolls down his tan, serious face. The hair under his bandanna felt hot and wet, and the perspiration seemed to consume him with a wet heat.

Fire cackled by him with a ghastly glow like a dancing sun. Wood was slowly consumed into ash below the fire, as if carrying it with tiresome, stick-thin arms. The smell of burning and ashy cold seemed to fill the air with the dry soil.

Eric swung the axe high in the air again, feeling the power build up. He was chopping the wood for the tent houses they knew would be wrecked and torn. His red Japanese style coat was by a stump, hanging like a warm blanket comfy for the tree sport. Eric was wrapped in the barren field's freezing cold of the night with his glistening sweat making a layer on his skin. The axe came down with another sickening thud and Eric soon found his back tired and sore. His browned eyes closed smoothly and tiredly. He breathed in a big breath of cold air, the iciness comforting him. Half of him that faced the fire seemed to glow holily. He wore his short sleeved black shirt that seemed to hide in the darkness, yet his large, tanned arms showed. He was becoming tired, but he knew he had to finish the job.

"You know," Mark began, sitting on the floor by the fireplace. The cracking flames breathed heat on his face, revealing his sweaty face. His mouth was wide open in tiredness that sucked in cold air like a vacuum. He spread his legs out on the floor around the fire, and they seemed to cook in the bright, orange heat. The osmium weights strapped around his upper legs seemed to weigh tons now. The ones on his arms felt a million times more than they were supposed to be. He wanted to fall and lie down completely on his back, but his forearms held his face and eyes high above the ground, and let them stare into the dancing oranges and yellows.

Eric acknowledged Mark's voice as he swung the axe again, and let more rolling drops of sweat streak down the middle of his face, hanging on to the tip of his nose before finally falling off. "It's hard to believe where you even found that axe," Mark said, feeling the cool soil relax his hot, sweaty skin. "What's an axe even doing here in the first place?"

Eric heard him, but kept chopping away unnoticeably.

Meanwhile, Walter found himself backed up against a towering tree that felt almost protecting, the hard surface on his back. The canopy swayed with a light cold breeze shook like a mushroom head, or cotton candy. Its protective feeling felt somewhat comforting and more securing. Yet, Walter knew that things like trees didn't give protection. Things like trees don't really help with the problems in life. Things like trees just stand there, and watch as the many deaths happen and surround them. But only if they did… Walter fantasized. I'm getting tired, he thought as he stared up to the starry, bejeweled skies. The atmosphere wore the luminous specks like wrapping necklaces and golden rings with pride. I'm getting tired of everything… he thought as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. It's been months since I've left my uncle and aunt, eight years since my mom left, and ten since my father died. So, why? Walter thought, not wanting to open his eyes. Why can't I let go of everything and just leave it behind?

He brushed his fingers over his face, trying t o recognize his own features. It was feeling another person's face replacing your own. The skin felt smooth and cold in his wavering fingertips. He gave a long, exhausted sigh that filled the air shortly with warmth. It swam away quickly as possible, like escaping something that Walter found he couldn't. No, he thought, opening his eyes again and staring on to the skies. I know why I can't let go, he realized. He slowly remembered the day after he had left, the diary of his aunt, the curse words all over the paper as well as with the horrible message; the grudging truth. The truth that made Walter swear revenge on Void Core and all the pain in the world. Pain. It was something Walter didn't want to fear anymore. Something he didn't want to live with. And he wanted to leave it with power. Leave it all behind and protect himself and only himself, with as much power as possible. And that means beating this stupid swamp task.

So what now? Walter felt the dry soil on the ground. It felt colder than stone. The night air was dark and shaded with a blue mist, giving everything the appearance of death. No water, he noted. There's no water anywhere below the ground, not even a drop for miles. So why is there a tree? He said, feeling the cragged bark on his back for assurance that it was in reality. Why is there life with no water? It makes no sense. It could be a doing of something in this forest, but if something in the area could make a natural unbalance of nature at will… then what else could the things here do? I've got to figure it out! I'm not losing now! Walter demanded of himself, closing his fist around the dirt, cupping some in his fist. It was cold in his hand. Walter gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He bowed his head, feeling defenseless as he tried hard to think. But he couldn't/ His mind just seemed too clouded. So clouded, in fact, that he didn't know what was clouding him.

At the fire, Mark let out a long, exasperating sigh as Eric swung the axe down, another sickening crack escaping from the wood. He got up heavily with a sigh, feeling the weights unbalance their heaviness. He picked pieces from everyone's attention as he stood up. "I'm going to get wood for the fire," he informed as the crippling fire seemed to soon die out. He walked away into the bushes and into the covering darkness. His steps were heavy against the ground even though he was the thin person he was.

PoVS

Takiato Daniel marked the wall of his wooden tent with a rock, making a deep cut that tallied once on the pillar. He sighed as he breathed in a deep whiff of wet, dirty air. The smell of soil filled his nostrils and dirt compiled in and outside of the "tent." Darkness crept in easily and the walls seemed to close in on him. He was cold and the freezing, subzero dirt didn't help warm him.

In the next tent, Teresa found herself backed up into a corner in her tent. She felt uneasy as she shifted slightly. The cold wood piled on her back slimily and the mushy dirt felt sand like underneath her sandals. Her piercing, violet eyes were closed. She took in a deep, cool breath and tried to force the Visible Darkness once again. The pain from the first one didn't completely wear off yet, but she didn't want to give up. She didn't want to give up and carry her debt to the top of the mountain… she didn't. She wouldn't let it happen, no matter what. Teresa squinted with forced, trying to push it out. Seconds later came a hell stabbing pain into her head, forcing her to jerk back. She hit her head on the back of the tent and yelped out like a dog, her voice still low enough for her teammates to remain oblivious to the noise. The searing pain soon took over her and she found herself lying helplessly against the wood.

She took heavy and deep breaths, her purple hair caked with dirt and moss. She gave a low moan as she felt the uneasiness grow her, wear her – try her on like a winter sweater you find at the store and it just so happens to be your color. It was putting her on by the sleeves, one after another, and as the uneasiness and nausea became overwhelming, Teresa finally felt like she should give up on achieving the first level of Visible Darkness. The pain was still overtaking, and soon a drop of red blood came in the form of a tear and down her temples, then to her dirty hair.

A drop of blood? She thought wildly, wiping it away as quick as she could. That's ridiculous, she thought. She clawed at her eyes wiping them just to make them feel better, just for the heck of it. She wiped some more, flinging her sleeves around like wild chains, slapping the wooden walls around her that reeked of decay and soil. This is unreal. This whole life is unreal, she complained. She wished the pain would just go away and let her build a fire. A fire for warmth and comfort, but she knew she couldn't. She couldn't have a fire to help her comfort. A fire would attract any enemies around the area and alert them of her presence. So she couldn't have her oh-so-desired comfort. She sighed the pain away, and continued as she fought away wave after wave of nausea.

PoVS

Derek watched the moon in its gibbous state hang high in the sky with the stars as its accomplices, like they were held on its shoulders, hung high on its arms, and suspended with a strong grip in its hands. He sat on the cold dirt that seemed to wrap around him and the trees behind him were solid and strong on their stance, unlike him when he first got the Geta slippers to wear. He stared hard at the gibbous moon, partially eaten away by the everlasting hunger of the darkness.

"Okay," he heard Dylan's voice come from behind him. The Botany Minor came forward and set a delicate hand on the side of the tree Derek put his head back on. "We buried the plates from the food so we wouldn't attract enemies with the smell," he reported, sounding tired. Darkness carried his voice well to Derek, and the shadow mumbled in acknowledgement.

"Yeah," Derek just said halfheartedly, his voice low and out of it. His eyes wandered upward to the dreams of the stars and sky. They had stolen his stare, and his personality had been sucked away by the coolness and calmness of the growing night air.

"It sure got late fast," Dylan noted as he noticed the moon and stars with Derek. He gazed up as well now, and lost himself in a trance of twinkling specks.

"Yeah," Zack said, coming from behind Dylan. He set a powerful grip on Dylan's shoulder and smiled. He stared up into the sky as well and watched the stars as they seemed to dance upward towards the zenith. They glimmered distantly in Zack's brown orbs for eyes. He took in a deep, cool breath and breathed it out forcefully. It was a brisk, comfortable night. The scenery of stars smiled back at the three.

Suddenly, Dylan began to moan uncomfortably. Zack quickly pulled away his hand and watched his friend. "What's wrong?" Zack asked, catching the attention of Derek as well, who turned around with curious, caring eyes. It was amazing that despite the fact the three boys go through with each other, they still treated each other like brothers almost. Dylan moaned uncomfortably in a comical pain and groaned hungrily.

"Water…" he pleaded.

"Water?" Derek asked, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. "What about water?"

"I need it…!" Dylan begged, clutching the sides of his stomach as he lay on the tree's side weakly, feeling its dampness take over the side of his clothes.

"You've got to be kidding," Derek insisted, sighing a deep sigh. Dylan shook his head in negation. Derek sighed again deeply, and stood up. He felt the brisk air rush under his old style coat and to his bandaged skin underneath. He walked past the two boys dressed in separate colors and recommended, "Let's just go to sleep for now. We'll be fine in the morning. We'll think about food then, because at this point, I haven't even had a bite of food."

"Yeah but…" Dylan began to complain, his eyes watering in humor.

"But nothing," Derek finished his sentenced for him, telling him no buts. "If I can last the whole night without water, you can," he said seriously.

"But that's you…!" he cried.

"Let's just go, Dylan. We'll think about it more in the morning, okay?" Zack said, putting his hand over Dylan's shoulder once more. It seemed to weight Dylan down with its size and weight. It was now that the Botany Minor realized just how strong Zack was. It's just that he was always so immature that it made him seem like a child, when really, he had the strength of a well built seventeen year old. And finally, the three boys slowly began to walk to the middle of the forest, where they found trees to sleep next to that would hold their heads up for the night.

PoVS

Eric sat on the stump, tired. He was still coatless, the short sleeved T-shirt being the only thing he wore on top, his long shorts letting in slight breezes and cool air from the bottom while hot, sweaty air pooled out. He looked around in the darkness, trying to figure out a good place to put the tents. The axe lay by his feet seemed like it had been bloodstained at the side of its blade, like something from a horror movie. Scratches and bites were all over the handle, and the blade was also a bit rusty. It gave a blurry reflection, and would show you something that would make snow white look like an ogre. The Fire Minor took a deep breath as he began thinking naturally. It was times like these when he was alone and it was quiet, and he began to lose himself and swim in his thoughts.

He closed his eyes and put himself in a trance. I'm worried, I can't lie, he realized. I'm worried that the ones I want to protect are the ones I will fail… again, he thought as he remembered his mother. He never forgave himself for not doing what he wanted to do. I let my own mother die, he blamed himself. In his head, he was never vindicated, or brazen. He was never free from blame. There was always a burden for him to put on himself, but only by doing that, he felt more comfortable. He felt that things were fairer, that I was doing things more correctly. Bug somehow, someway, there was more to be fixed. More to be made fair. But Eric never found those things. So how could he ever fix them? But oh, how he wanted to so badly.

Eric found himself awake again in reality and looked around once more. The cold air soon became warmer to a regular cold, yet was still chilling. It was comfortable to him anyway, considering how sweaty he had become from working so hard. Sweat still pooled around the top of his shirt and everywhere on his tanned self. His short sleeves let his arms free in the cool air, comfort sliding in easily, making him want to relax even more.

He turned his head to find Walter sitting there. He had been there since I had begun chopping the wood, he noted as he watched the Water Minor lay there in his own thoughts. His half open eyes glimmered in the nonexistent light as they stared off into the empty space known as the darkness of the swamp. He gave no signs of life and just lay there like he had been dead for years. He lay there sloth-like his back lying on the floor. His head was barely against the wood of the tree behind him that provided the concealing shade. His lips were tightly locked, hiding something secretive that he just couldn't seem to put to words, the letters lost and scrambled like an anagram.

"What…" Eric choked out as he kept his head turned to Walter. He soon caught the other Minor's attention as he found his eyes roll toward him; the half closed becoming three-fourths. The brown glaze of his gaze had something in them that made Eric feel a little… different. But, still… he always had those eyes. Those eyes that carried pain on the back and a burden over the shoulders like Eric felt like he had always been like. "What's your problem?" Eric muttered.

"What…do you mean?" Walter said tiresome. He had one arm laying across his stomach and the other one by his side, being cooled by the mushy soil that looked like it had been spit up and chewed.

Eric sighed and closed his eyes, bowing his head in a kind of respect. "You still remember what I said to you a long time ago?" he said, mentioning the eyes.

They both seemed to remember the scene together in unison as their locks intertwined and twisted with each other to combine into one look.

_"I see you still haven't changed those eyes," Eric had told Walter back then, his hands stuffed into those big, black jacket pockets. Not once did Eric miss those old clothes. Walter had stared into his eyes back then as well, the brown glaze sugary and narrow. "They're filled with pain; they're dealing with something. I just don't know what." Walter had continued to stare. Eric followed suit._

Eric sighed in nostalgia, and Walter just stared the same way he had always done. "Don't talk to me like we're friends," Walter mumbled loudly, his body not moving completely. It was like a ventriloquist had been doing the voice for him throughout the whole conversation as the real Walter just lay there, staring with the coldness surrounding him like a blanket, a blanket that he wanted to wrap himself in only to feel protected and at the same time, not protected at all. "The only reason I'm doing this stupid teamwork thing…" he began. "Is that it is completely necessary."

"Necessary?" Eric said, narrowing his stare. He expected Walter to do the same, but his dull stare kept itself. "Necessary for what?" Eric asked.

"For…" Walter didn't know if he should explain. He let his voice trail off as he let the cold temperatures sink in and take more notice all of a sudden. Walter suddenly remembered the pain of his past, the pain of seeing his mother dead, the pain of reading what his aunt wrote, the pain of the whip cracking like the thunder above that cried out back on his back over and over again like striking lightning. He remembered the tears he shed on every spot on the house, like a curse. He took in a deep breath as it all hit him suddenly and winced. He moved back his body suddenly feeling uncomfortable, showing Eric that he was definitely alive. "For nothing," he said finally, grunting it out in the dying pain. The pain was none other than the past's depression eating at him like a midnight snack.

Eric looked away with narrow eyes. Where's the wood Mark promised to get? He asked himself as he looked around. "Hey," he heard a voice behind him. It was Walter. He turned around quickly to show his acknowledgement and found the Water Minor slowly thinking, staring with a bored stare as Eric stared back with an unwelcoming one. "What's your problem?" Walter shot back. Eric widened his stare as if not knowing what he was saying. "You share the same eyes as me most of the time," Walter noted, surprising Eric. The Water Minor began to sit up completely now until he felt all of his back touch the cragged wood of the body of the large trunk of the tree. "You have the same eyes as me sometimes yet I find you and I completely different in actual current lives. You seem completely normal like everyone else. What could you possibly have gone through?" Walter asked in a bit of pleading way. It would be amazing if someone else was there to connect with him, Walter realized.

Eric sighed as he knew that he was right. Maybe he hadn't gone through pain like he had – but he still went through pain. He still went through something that he didn't think he could even live through. "How about…." He began, remembering all the old pain he had to face. "Losing something you care about that you thought would be with the rest of your life?" Eric asked, feeling his arms grow weak as he remembered everything all over again like a flashback.

"Join the club," Walter scoffed.

Suddenly, there came a loud clearing of a throat, breaking the brisk silence of the night after Walter's words. The Water Minor didn't care to turn, yet Eric did. The brown eyes found Mark carrying a whole pile of cragged wood under his arm. He smiled with a wide grin and came forward. Eric just stared, and Mark seemed uneasy in his steps, walking carefully. Then, Eric realized it. His eyes went wide with realization and the Fire Minor zoomed out of his seat and sent a fist flying at Mark. The sudden decision and movement caused Walter to turn around and curl up a bit more, hiding behind the tree just in case something happened and he had to keep himself safe for something like an execution of a plan.

Eric punched Mark in the chest, causing the Earth Minor to hurl himself backward, dropping the wood planks to the floor. The wood clattered on the floor like a million chopsticks, clinking each other in a sort of toast.

"What're you doing, Eric? It's me, Mark!" the Earth Minor complained as he was backed up against a large tree trunk with Eric closing in way too close.

"Who the hell is Mark?" Eric suddenly said with a narrow, unsympathetic look. He closed in on the Earth Minor who grit his teeth in fear and panic. His eyes were wide with hanging suspense. Walter watched with a lazy stare as Eric made sure escape was impossible in the wavering darkness. As everything seemed to spin, Eric pulled back his fist and mumbled under his breath. "Now, shut up," he demanded, gripping his fist tighter. It made a rubber sort of noise as his fingers pushed more backward. "Right now, you die," Eric declared, letting the fist fire and make a direct hit into Mark's heart.

What's he doing!? Walter thought as his eyes widened in panic and rush. He's really going to kill him with no holding back!


	51. Chapter 51

Derek felt his conscience at his feet, slowly crawling and swimming up to his brain to give him a wake up call. Seconds later, he found himself wide awake as his weightless eyes shot left to right in an uneasy search. The cold air had grown to a devil's frost during the night, as chilly and freezing as the winter. It surrounded him like a fiendish blanket. Derek found himself awake by a large, shady tree that swayed eerily with the dusting winds. The ground was cold and frosty, and he slowly breathed in the air in deep breaths, filling his strangely hot mouth with the coolness. He found himself sweating for some reason, and he knew something wasn't right. Something didn't _feel _right. And he felt obligated to find out what.

Slowly, Derek cautiously crept to his feet. He shot his eyes back and forth, taking careful looks at the rustling shrubs and thin powerless grass blades. His straight black hair filtered the drifting breezes. He took heavy, uneasy breaths as he felt threatened to take a step forward. The sound of his Geta slipper crunching slightly on the grass and soil rustled in his ears in the late night silence. In the distance, he heard a long, infinite wind blowing, like Mother Nature trying to call for help.

The night had turned orange and turned its back on the three boys. The darkness navy churned into old, mythical oranges and heavy, bleak reds. Everything looked like it was in an old photograph, the bare colors filling all the wasted values. A crescent moon hung high in the sky, shining its sliver of light across the orange sky. Glittering stars faded away, and a deviant mist swam across the crescent smile creepily like a blanket for the night. The wind was strong and light, just enough to wrestle with the branching tree branches and rustle the bushy leaves.

Derek had an eerie feeling at heart. He sensed something was wrong, out of place. Yet everything around him looked so normal, he wondered in the back of his mind if he had gone crazy. Why did I just suddenly wake up? Derek thought. Why don't I feel tired at all? Hints of panic sprung from Derek's emotions as he turned his head quickly to find his two teammates wide awake as well, standing side by side. They stared at him with a friendly, solemn smile.

Derek turned back and stared once more at the crescent moon. "Something's not right," he muttered to his friends. "The moon's crescent tonight, but before we went to sleep, it was gibbous."

Tree pairs of eyes gazed up at the curvy object in the sky as it was wrapped in fame and a thick mist. Black silhouettes portraying bats began to float up and fly around it creepily, the wings flapping up and down like mechanical levers. The sight gave Derek a disturbing feeling, another signal something just wasn't right.

"This place doesn't look…right," Derek took notice, feeling the sudden urge to move towards the moon. Before he knew it, he felt the cool air swim around his feet as he walked through it, pacing slowly towards the moon. He was soon followed by his quiet teammates, who were so scared, they couldn't say a word. Derek wasn't really scared. He just felt panicky, and a bit annoyed. He was the mature one. If they were going to get out of this weird mess, it would be him to do it.

Derek began to sweat more, but it was still unnoticeable with the cold around him. He felt his breaths grow heavier and heavier with each and every step, the noise of inhaling filling his ears now, ringing like a bell. The moon seemed to grow bigger in the sky as well as the team neared it. Zack and Dylan trailed closely.

"Look over there," Dylan whispered, his voice weak. His voice took Derek's eyes away from the shining moon and straight ahead into the swampy road. What he found took away his thoughts and let them free, now lost in his mind somewhere. His eyes held themselves bold in their sockets as they gazed at the silhouette scene ahead. Three large cross looking silhouettes stuck in the ground ahead surrounded by a creepy mist of the night. They stood creepily and still, mysterious in the pooling mist around them.

Derek had the sudden instinct to walk forward, wanting to reach out to the silhouette. He didn't know why he wanted to – he just felt like he had to. He swallowed a big knot in his throat of nervousness as a sweat drop rolled down the side of his face.

As he neared the crosses, the darkness seemed to sweep back, hesitating to come in contact with Derek. Slowly, they revealed the cross graves, and Dylan and Zack soon followed. What're these doing here? Derek thought as he took meticulous steps towards the grave. They look out of place… and there's something about them that doesn't feel right…

Derek brushed his hand across the stone of the cross and looked at the name, reading it carefully. His eyes widened as he pulled back, feeling the feeling in his legs get lost. He stumbled backward as he read the last two, and got back up on his feet as they resembled his teammate's names. What the hell was going on?

He stared at the names, wishing them away. Shadows behind them began to churn creepily along with Derek's surprise and hinting panic. The shadows began to form figures, three shadows heavy on the three crosses. They formed people, arms and legs, heads, and bodies. They slowly crept out, and the team gasped.

PoVS

Behind Rick's steady paced group in the late night, something began to rise from the wet soil in the ground. It grew and arm that clasped the soil with a strong grip. It picked itself up, the metal hand cooling. Moments later the figure rose completely from the soil dirt-caked and rusty. His eyes beamed brightly in red like a demon.

Now, Lance thought, turning around. He found the enemy in the corner of his eye as millions of silver spheres shuffled from different directions and grouped together around the enemy, sliding each other with friction. Seconds later was there a large explosion, filling Lance's ears and firing warm redness into the sky.

The team stopped running and turned. Rick watched closely with his dark yet electrifying yellow eyes. Marissa's features tightened as she watched solemnly, Lance in her way. The Metal Minor seemed to stand up to the challenge, standing close to the area of explosion.

Feeling the stares peel of his back, Lance watched the cloud of smoke and explosive red float away and clear slowly. The night was young and had just set the chilling cold air. Nighttime stars twinkled in the sky like beckoning beads or eyes, the moon glowing high in the sky as cold mist blanketed it. Lance stood cross-armed in front of the smoke, his eyes thin and piercing into the puffs of gray and black.

He posed toughly as the wisps of concealment faded away to the night sky above. The scenery used the smoke like glitter. The smoke whisked away until tiny spheres that hung suspense in the air were seen, like tiny embellishments in the fabric of the rising and clearing fog. In the middle of it all soon came a figure – a silhouette portrayed in the dying smoke.

Lance didn't give, keeping his thin stare so thin it could give paper cuts. His crossed arms tightened against his chest, and it hurt only a bit. I can't deal with this, Lance decided. I feel too tired. We've been running forever but we're so slow we can't get anywhere… Lance felt like yawning but he held it back. He knew he had to remain fully aware of what was going to happen. Coldness seeped through the openings in his clothes, the drowsy coolness shaking his conscious state rigorously.

The smoke cleared as his thoughts finished, the contributing gas wavering away completely. In the smoke, the figure was finally seen, standing high and still in his place where he had risen, not shaken at all from the shuffling explosion. He had no skin – just a type of metallic armor that seemed to cover his body, even in a mask of a sort that showed piercing dotted eyes. He looked like a robot, yet his body structure remained so thin that it had to be his own skin.

"I see," the being said as streaming smoke streaked away from his limbs from the explosion, pushing away the metallic orbs with his arms. They were heavy against his arm. "Friction, huh?" he said, his voice deep and echoing in his own body. He had no mouth from which he spoke from. It just seemed to vibrate out of his body as he stared straight ahead all the time.

"Who are you?" Lance said, shifting his feet. He was ready to do some damage. Lance thickened his stare and took a deep breath, the cold air filling his stomach with a calming comfort. The light wind brushed his long hair backward. He knew Rick and Marissa had their eyes glued on the scene.

"Someone who…" the blue metallic figure said, brushing more metal spheres away to make room. They were suspended heavily in the air like dots, holding on to the lingering suspense. "Who has a challenge," he finished finally, his voice shaky, the steam still rising from various parts of his body, the metal smoking from the friction.

"Challenge?" Lance said, raising one eyebrow. He's got to be kidding, Lance thought. Suddenly, the Minor began to feel more comfortable. Being only just feet away from the enemy, he was almost interested in what he had to say. "What are you talking about? Who are you?" Lance said with caution. I can't overlook this guy, he thought to himself. He's here, so he's got to be a societal danger somehow. Lance began examining him closely with his eye for detail and took notes quickly by scanning as they continued their conversation.

"Yes. A challenge. It's not hard to tell you're one of the most talented of the group," the opponent said, his voice buzzing. He had finally made enough space for him to move around. The metal spheres were piercing with pain to move. They were so hard and heavy; it was amazing just how Lance used his metal. "But I bet that I'm better than you are," he said confidently. "My name is Otoshiana," he explained finally.

"So what do you want from us?" Lance demanded, taking his hands and putting them by his side, staring hard and narrow at his opponent. I can't trust this guy an ounce, Lance thought, clenching his fist in early preparation.

Otoshiana smirked and gave a short chuckle. Lance tightened his fist and pulled back. Suddenly, a few feet behind the two, at Rick, something zoomed from the bushes. Out of the dark, lush and wet bushes came tens of strings that whistled as they rushed past, surprising Rick, forcing him a bit backward.

Marissa cried out as she was taken into the mechanical arms that sprung from the plants, and was gripped tight against the bark of the tree. She felt the cold, damp wood crawl into her skin and blood. She winced and tried to keep her eyes open, wondering if she was still alive.

"Marissa!" Rick cried out, his eyes wide with shock. The cold wind seemed to pick up suddenly. Marissa moaned in uneasiness and groaned in grief. Rick took action quickly and ran up to the hissing wires, and held his hand high. He felt the energy pout into it as the confidence build up.

"I wouldn't do that," Otoshiana insisted. Rick stopped and cried out. He stared blankly and bleakly at Otoshiana. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to save Marissa. But all this… all these wires and enemies and sudden explosions… he didn't know what was what anymore. "…since the task is a fight until death in two hours or else the girl dies immediately," Otoshiana informed.

Rick pulled back. He knew when to stop, and he knew that it wasn't worth it. Lance turned back and stared hard at Rick. It was hard to find his eyes in the darkness, but he found the yellow glare soon enough. Lance nodded in assurance. "It's all right," he whispered. "I'll do it," he said, turning back to Otoshiana.

The robot laughed at Lance's confidence. "By morning, you'll have two people missing from this team," he assured. "And with one person alone in a place like this with much more stronger people than me, pretty boy over there won't last until noon."

The team swallowed tight, heavy knots in their chests, forcing them down in the pits in their stomachs.

PoVS

Eric thrust his fist confidently at the tree, missing Mark's head just barely. He crushed in a large hole that sunk deep into the tree as Mark's expression went wide with surprise. Then, like a snake, he slithered away into the air in a molding form. He changed his appearance into another, more deviant one, leaving Eric there in the darkness with his fist stuck through a tree. Coldness dusted the area as he pulled it back and watched the thing slither away – the intruder that wasn't really the Earth Minor.

It slithered away into the bushes by the trees, and Eric followed with determination, crying out. "What's going on?" Walter muttered to himself as he clung to the tree's side. I should get up and help him look for that thing, Walter realized, getting up. Suddenly, he heard more rustling from the same set of bushes. He ducked, feeling a rush of cold air. He watched carefully with narrow, meticulous eyes. The large trunk of the tree would hide him, but not as much as he wanted it to be.

From the bushes rose that slithering thing again, but it looked a bit different, yet Walter couldn't tell how. It rushed through the darkness, racing like an air lizard. It was followed by the real Mark, who came out of the bushes with a huge jump, then landing by pummeling his fist into the ground. The earth took a quaking hit yet damaged nothing he aimed for. Walter felt his feet unsteady a bit as the ground shake and the tree rattle like a baby's toy. Sets of leaves fell together and floated smoothly down to the floor.

Mark sighed as he stumbled to his feet. Walter slowly crept from beneath the trunk of the tree and faced the Earth Minor. Mark stared at him cautiously. "What's going on?" Walter demanded.

"I lost him," Mark complained, not answering his teammate's question. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, blaming himself for letting the easy escape happen. "I overlooked everything," Mark said to himself. "I can't believe it."

Seconds later, Eric crawled from the bushes as well, looking uncomfortable, the sweat gone from his face now. "I lost mine, too," he told.

"There were two?" Walter said confusedly. His mouth dropped open in a wide O of shock. It almost seemed comical. The Water Minor calmed himself and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he were going to meditate. "What were those things?" Walter asked seriously, his voice bleak and dull. He sounded as mean and uncaring as ever, his voice tough and hiding the unbearable pain and sadness he always seemed to carry on his back. The same pain and sadness Eric so desperately wanted to find.

"I don't know," Eric said, coming closer. The shade of the bushy heads of the tall trees blanketed him with a ebony shadow. "But whatever they were," he began, looking at them from left to right. Serious and confused expressions were painted on them. Eric swallowed heavily. "They're definitely after us."


	52. Chapter 52

The orange of the night never seemed to fade, and the wind calmed everything but Derek's beating heart, making it too silent. Derek's own heavy breathing filled his ears, the presence of his teammates bare to his senses. The coolness of the night crept around them as Derek watched the names carved deep into the stone graves. He felt sick to the stomach as he fought off wave after wave of nausea.

He had to try with a hundred percent effort to stop himself from throwing up. The names were mind pulsing to even look at, and he felt the nausea grow around his teammates too, as well as the panic and confusion. The cross style graves stood crookedly, slanting off to one side of the dirt road. Behind them lay the barrier of gates standing eerily, the skewers thin and weak, the fencing binding and restricting. Cold mist pooled around the graves, the center one straight up with Derek's name on it. They corresponded to their places next to each other, and Derek began to wonder if he was really still alive.

The crescent moon seemed to curve further above as the darkness behind the graves began to shift. It began to churn and alternate, moving like a blurring imagine behind them. The shadows began to shake violently, as if panicky. It soon wrapped itself around the graves like demonic, greedy fingers. Derek watched with a lost voice and wide eyes, the cold perspiration beginning to stride easily down the side of his face. He could hardly feel himself breathe. All that kept him sane was the racing beat of his heart thumping against his chest, and the hellish cold that wrapped around him, keeping senses live.

He stared hard at his name as darkness wrapped around it more and more. YOMI, DEREK he read in his mind slowly. His inner voice had been lost as well. It can't be, Derek thought. It can't be true.

"What's wrong?" a voice whispered, snapping Derek to his senses a little more, shaking him. Derek took in a sharp, quick breath as he peered left to right nervously. Anxiety began to fill his thoughts as he took bare breaths of freezing, cold air. The night was still painted an eerie orange. "Don't you recognize your own names?" the voice whispered in a raspy voice again. The creaking voice seemed despaired, or angered to say the least.

It seemed to be coming from… behind the grave, Derek realized. He tried hard to swallow the knot tightening in his throat. The warmness of his own sweat left him, seeming to run away as fast as it could. All the comforting warmth had left him alone to freeze. Derek couldn't feel his arms. It didn't feel like he was in his body anymore. It felt like he was standing next to it, and was watching through astral eyes. An invisible block of ice was what he called home now.

The shadows began to churn more wildly, until dark ebony silhouettes began to form slowly, shivering out of the darkness like they had gone through a portal. The shadowy figures stumbled behind the graves, the middle one laying its hand tight on Derek's grave. The fear in the Shadow Minor's heart began to grow and expand, like taking him over with every dreadful second that passed. He felt his heart tighten and it seemed as if it were to implode at any minute as he watched the grip loosen and tighten on _his_ grave.

The three silhouettes soon crept into the unknown reality, and their identities were swept open. The wind picked up dramatically and brushed a line of leaves along the way as Derek locked his frozen stare with a bleak, emotionless one. "N-No way," he managed to choke out barely. His voice was so low, he wasn't even sure if he had said anything in the first place. The knots began to tighten in his throat again, and he felt like someone had struck him through the heart and held it tightly, constricting demonic fingers around it.

His hand still on the cross, the figure stared blank into space, its ebony eyes dark and deep as the shadows were of the midnight shade. The blank stare seemed statue-like, without thought or feeling. Derek couldn't believe what he was seeing. He couldn't believe what lay right before his very eyes. He almost felt like screaming, yet his voice had left him long ago. Behind the grave, only a few feet away from Derek's feet stood the exact same person he believed himself to be – Yomi Derek. Beside the imposter stood two other figures, with the exact same appearance as his two teammates, carrying the same empty stare that was lost in space.

"Wake up," the voice rang again. The voice was easily recognized now. Through the coldness of the night, the piercing voice resembled Derek's own voice. But it didn't' seem to come from his replica. Its lips didn't move at all. The echoing of his own voice shook him and added tons to Derek's all ready shaking legs.

Suddenly without warning, the three figures jumped in the air expertly, as if they were ninjas soaring high in the sky. They continued to lock stares with their original as they dropped closer and closer towards them. As if on cue, the feeling immediately returned to Derek's legs, surprising him. He felt the energy burst in his body once more, and he jumped swiftly out of the way. His two teammates followed.

In the silent night, the three figures landed before them, but they didn't stop there. The three copies went after the original silently, as if they were being controlled like puppets or through voodoo. Derek's replica's fist was thrust through the air, and the original dodged it expertly as he moved slowly back towards the forest.

The punches kept coming, and Derek kept dodging, surprised that he could move his body so well without taking his eyes off the reality he couldn't handle. The bleak stare of the clone mystified Derek's thoughts and covered reality with enigma. Derek soon found himself in the midst of the forest trees that branched high towards the sky, reaching out for their dreams as their heads wavered solemnly in the light breeze.

The clones had separated the three teammates, taking them away into different directions. Derek's clone move swiftly and expertly, and the real one didn't know if he could keep up the bare dodging and ducking.

"What the hell are these things?" Derek said in a whisper, finding his voice in the pit of his stomach. The clone was about to jump on top of him as Derek regained the confidence he had lost earlier. With agility, he sent his arm outward as a Shadow Arm, mastering Hibiyomi's specialty. The ebon limb clasped the clone tightly in its large, controlling fingers and sent both of them flying into the trees. They collided with each other and sent old dust flying into the air.

Derek began to breathe heavy again, his lungs about to burst. What are they? He thought tiredly in his head, his eyes wandering around the cloud of dust that rose slowly into the night sky. Do they have our powers, too? From the clearing cloud of dust came a shadow limb made of black energy – the kind of energy Derek had within him. The energy made a tightened fist and smashed into the ground at Derek's feet. The Shadow Minor jumped away and onto the limb of a tree. The coolness rushed past him as he jumped expertly. I can't believe this, he thought as he watched the stars slowly move past. "Just what are you?" Derek demanded as he found the silhouette reappear in the rising smoke.

PoVS

Rick swallowed as he peered to the side to find Marissa uneasy against the towering bark of the tree. She looked as if she were locked in a deep pain as the mechanical hand gripped tighter and tighter as the seconds ran past. Her teeth were tightly clenched in a lock of anger.

Lance peered back to find Marissa's uneasy face as well. The sight pained him to some scale, but he knew he couldn't take his mind off the battle. If he did that, he'd die. "I… I can't move," Marissa muttered through clenched, angry teeth. She was right. She showed struggle as she tried desperately to move her body towards the rising tension of the battle, but the mechanical arm was so consuming, it took up all of her body except her head.

"Just hold on," Lance promised. "I'll get you out of there as soon as I take care of this guy," he said as he locked eyes with the robotic being in front of him, Otoshiana. The tension began to build up as their hateful glares intertwined.

"Something like that won't be too easy," Otoshiana declared as a hole opened up in the palm of his hand and fired a metallic hammer that swung in a zigzag through the dirt path of the swamp. The sudden movement surprised Lance to say the least.

The Metal Minor jumped back with a flip as he dodged the first swing of the hammer, then jumped again as it tried another swing. It seemed to extend and keeping pushing him backward and he knew he couldn't keep that up for long. Finally, the swinging stopped, and Lance found himself closer to Rick, and farther away from Otoshiana. The coldness of the night was almost deadly, but Lance was able to ignore it.

"Got you," Otoshiana said in his raspy, creepy voice. Lance put a confused look as he felt the ground beneath his foot rumble uneasily.

"Shit!" he cried out in despair as his right foot was caught in a bear trap, the metal teeth sinking into his foreleg's skin like the piercing pain it was. The metal hammer suspended in the air only inches away from Lance, it opened up another whole and sent out a large pare of scissors that snapped in the air like piranha fish. It reflected the cool moonlight as it snipped toward Lance and struck for his heart.

Rick's eyes widened as he watched, taking a sharp breath of surprise as he saw the scissor blades fly backward in the air, deflected off Lance's chest. Even Rick, Lance's own teammate was confused as to what happened.

Otoshiana looked solemn as the crazy, snapping scissors crawled back into the hammer. The deflection made a piercing clash of metal that echoed through the air like a destructive cry. "You're dangerous," Lance noted in a sort of rival friendly way as he cleared his throat and put a serious look on his face that seemed to tighten with the reigning cold air. His plain robe seemed to sway in the air with the soft wind running by. Otoshiana made an acknowledged look. "So I guess it won't hurt to use _some_ creativity in this battle," Lance piqued insightfully.

As Lance's words filled everyone's ears with understanding, a silky, smooth metal began to take over his body, crawling up to his face like a building blanket of its own. The silver armor glimmered in the faint moonlight and was as cold as ice in the deviant frost. Soon, Lance's whole face was covered with the metal, including his eyes. His legs were soon consumed with it, too, as well as his hands. "Armor?" Otoshiana figured out swiftly, narrowing his eyes as he stood coolly and comfortably. His voice was deep and robotic, as if he weren't human.

Lance cleared his throat as he stuffed his smooth, heavy hand into his robe and pulled out two black leather gloves. The new armor was heavy on his body and seemed to way tons. He slipped the gloves on easily, feeling the comfort of the warm leather through the metal lining. His hands became lighter and lighter as he released the metal armor on them. "Gloves?" Otoshiana noticed. "What do you need gloves for?" he interrogated, his own metal armor the color of periwinkle blue that the midnight stars seemed to glitter.

They were completely surrounded my lush, colorful bushes and dead looking trees wrapped in a binding cold that seemed like the devil's breath. "No reason," Lance told with a secretive smile. "Just don't want to dirty my hands," he lied. The truth was the Metal Armor technique he developed was hard to use and heavy to carry around. It would certainly wear him down if he used a full version of it, and he would die in a matter of seconds if his opponent ever found its weakness. He had to cover up as much as his body as he could so he could take away the metal. As for his face and legs, they had to stay like that. But it was okay. Lance would be able to cope with it. "Now, about this trap," Lance began, moving on.

He bent down and took the metal teeth with his gloved hands and began pulling them apart, slowly at first with his forearms shaking violently, but the task got easier as more of it got finished. He grunted out his efforts as the searing pain left his legs, only leaving jagged teeth marks that leaked out blood into the cool, night air. Things like that didn't really matter either. It was just a wound that he could accept in a fight like this. He'd be lucky if that's the only wound he would receive from this whole experience. Lance stood back up again, his back straight and proud, his eyes narrow and metallic, his new skin glimmering in the night.

Lance took a deep breath as he disappeared, zooming up to Otoshiana in just a matter of a second. He sent a punch flying at the armored opponent, and Otoshiana dodged easily. Lance kept the punches and techniques consecutive, using every opening he could find for a punch, kick, sweep kick, and jump kicks. He varied his movements, but in the end, they were all dodged by Otoshiana. Damn it! Lance complained in his mind as he kept the swift punches going. He's too evasive. At this rate, I'll never lay a finger on him. Why is he so good? It's impossible to use close combat with this guy because he never fights back anyway.

As Lance finished up a punch, a spiked, spinning wheel sprung from Otoshiana's back shoulder and looked dangerous as it spun. It moved on its own will toward Lance and forced the Minor to jump back a few feet. The machine continued to work, slicing the air as it passed by. It sunk back into Otoshiana's body until the next time it was needed. "You made the right decision not underestimating me," Otoshiana complimented. "But that still doesn't mean you can win," he declared as he opened his mouth widely, his mechanical lips opening a hole shaped like a square that showed nothing but long, empty darkness. In seconds, missiles found their way out of his mouth and fired for Lance with expert agility. They left streaks of white smoke as they darted past the trees and bushes. The thin bullet looking missiles glided easily through the air, their tails glowing in the deep darkness of the night.

Lance jumped back with flips and kicks, dodging each missile as it gave a weak explosion that carried dust and smoke into the air. He jumped to a tree limb as another bear trap sprung from the floor, and continued to dodge obvious traps thanks to his eye for detail. Traps like nets from bushes, missiles, bear traps, and even mines. Dust spread all around as Lance felt his body grow weak and tired quickly. He found his heavy breathing begin to take over him. He was sorry he even got himself involved in this stupid battle.

"Why?" Lance asked as he dodged another set of missiles. "Why are you coming after us with so many murderous attempts? What reason do you have to keep attacking us the way you do?" Lance asked as his legs grew tired and cold, the metal sticking to his skin like a leech.

"Why?" Otoshiana repeated the question, his glaring red eyes demonic and cold. "To follow my father's footsteps, of course," he muttered in his robotic, empty voice as he fired more various types of mechanical weapons. "To fulfill my purpose in life. Something you wouldn't understand," he cried out in confidence and anger as he sent more continuous traps. The sound of metal clinking and zooming filled the cool, night air and Rick's ears as he wondered why Otoshiana hadn't noticed him yet. Maybe because I don't really pose a threat to him yet, Rick piqued. But if what he's saying is true, then I should be dead right now lying on my back. There has to be something more to his reason, Rick concluded.

Lance soon found himself in the midst of dead grass blades and towering trees that stood tall like empty monuments filled with no meaning. Time to fight back, Lance decided. The Metal Minor took a deep breath and spit out an array of aluminum needles, being the second easiest metal to mend. The thin, toothpick like needles glimmered in the light moonlight that seemed to grow. The firing of them sounded of metal clinking and a sharp cry of an infant banshee. It filled everyone's ears, even Marissa, who soon found herself half conscious due to the pressure put on her body.

The ray of needles missed their target as it moved out of the way easily. The beam soon stopped and left Otoshiana standing by the bushes behind him, only a few feet away from Rick, yet paying no attention to him at all. "My, my," he said prestigiously. "How dangerous," Otoshiana commented. Even though he couldn't smile, Lance could tell he would have an assuring smirk on his face. He wished he could wipe that mental smile away.

Once again, Lance took a deep breath and churned the liquid in his body for more metal. He spit out a long pillar of metal, the zooming ray as hard as steel. The pillar missed and crashed a foot away from its target, who looked not the least bit tired at all. Lance detached the pillar from his mouth as he waited for the slight dust to clear in the air. It stung his eyes and the cold of the night began to become too intense for fighting conditions. But it wasn't like he could stop the battle now and postpone it.

Otoshiana opened up a hole on his back and a metallic snake soon found its way out. It was made of cylinders and was joined by metal spheres that acted as joints. It even hissed its fake, silver tongue. Its eyes were beady and robotic, and the cool silver reflected the strengthening light. The snake crawled around the metal pillar, as if calling it home, marking its territory. It crawled upward to the side of it and hissed with its mouth wide open, the snake looking so unreal it wasn't even funny. As its mouth grew wider, tons of other snakes found their way out of its mouth, three coming from the first one, and then five coming from each of those, then ten, fifteen, twenty, and so on. The parade of snakes opened their mouths to reveal horns protruding out of them, glowing with hints of purple.

Lance took a huge breath as he watched the snakes soar closer to him, the horns purple with a glimmering poison. "Damn it," he muttered as he jumped as far back as he could, the snakes crashing into the ground, sending steam and dust into the night sky. The ground shook violently as the millions of metal snakes rammed into the floor and melted the surrounding trees, grass, and all other kind of life. The poison became so intense it melted the grass behind Lance, and he gulped, trying hard not to breathe in any of the solution. The parade of snakes looked like millions of pillars struck on the floor as they rose back up weakly, swallowing the points again to fill with more poison. The ground was hissing with cautious steam and some parts of the ground bubbled with purple liquid. With the first snake still wrapped around the metal pillar Lance had spit out, the millions of other snakes it held in its mouth hissed evilly, as if warning Lance, who immediately got the message.

Lance looked around to find the destruction all over the forest, all these bushes and trees smoking, all of the life between the two metal-users completely dead and melted, revealing the soil that was unsteady and mushy, freezing in the unthawing night air that would become frothy in just minutes.

Time's running out, Lance thought as he peered far away to Marissa's place against the tree. She was completely unconscious now, and as the wind blew past, her hair swung solemnly at her side. It rustled with the wind and danced smoothly, the blonde-brown streaks whipping towards Rick, as if calling out to him subconsciously. Rick watched with sympathetic, wondering eyes, his blonde hair obvious in the navy blue night, and Otoshiana looked straight ahead at his opponent, confident that he was going to win, confident that he was going to fulfill his "purpose" and send Lance to his grave.


	53. Chapter 53

The dust drifted slowly upward to the dead stars above, as if the whole universe outside of Derek's had exploded and had given up completely, failing all purpose. The Shadow Minor felt his shadowy limb diminish into nothing as his human arm rebuilt, unwinding slowly from the shadow that wrapped around it like a blanket. The grey dust seemed to crawl closer, but was carried away by the nonexistent winds. The orange of the night had actually thickened over time, and everything seemed frozen; as if captured in a photograph.

Derek's breathing picked up dramatically without reason, his body becoming somewhat tired, as if something were sucking out his energy. It had become so cold; it seemed that the air had frozen as well, even though it was physically impossible. The dark silhouette of his imposter half appeared, a dark figure crouching with the least bit damage down as the cloudy puffs of smoke swam in the air freely, expressing their freedom. The replica's face was soon shown, the blank, expressionless stare locked in a robotic stare.

Derek tried hard to keep his eyes open. Over time, the thick freeze of the air had pulled bits of his consciousness away, dragging him slowly to sleep. His body weary and his voice reluctant, he tried harder to stay awake than he did to pay attention to his clone. The trees whispered to him, beckoning him, pulling him closer and closer to the resistant rest. "Who are you?" he said weakly, his breaths long and heavyset, interrupting his every word. His arms seemed to drag along the floor as his words came out. His back slumped in sudden tiredness. "What do you want?" he rasped again, his eyes now two-thirds open. Derek couldn't think straight at all. His senses became blurry and his mind woozy. He felt as if he were to collapse any second in the fight. The fight that took place in this unreal, photographic world he now found himself in.

"A problem you can't ward away," his replicated voice answered back to him. Again, the replica's lips did not move, shiver, or show any signs that it was actually him that was speaking. The voice echoed strongly, booming off the thick trunks of the trees and the damp, frozen shrubs of the forest.

"What're you talking about?" Derek spoke wearily, laying a hand on his forehead, trying to bring his lost half of his consciousness back into his head. His breaths had even grown weak. He tried hard to comprehend the things around him - the trees, the bushes, the coldness, the blank, crescent moon, everything.

"You know better than anyone else what I'm talking about," the voice boomed again. It seemed to echo off the midnight walls that painted the scene orange. It made it look like the only real things there were the replica and Derek himself. Everything else seemed frozen in time. Derek flashed a halfhearted glance before shutting his eyes, then reopening them reluctantly. The replica stared hard at Derek with wide, aware eyes. He was the complete opposite of Derek. "All this time, you've been scared of the confrontation of problems in life. You can't deny it. You can't say that I'm wrong," the voice shook wildly and loudly, the words clear to Derek's careful ears.

"No," Derek denied. "You _are_ wrong. Don't act like you know me," the Shadow Minor demanded, his voice weak and shallow, nothing like the explosions that answered his every word. His teeth were weakly grit, his fist barely clenched.

"How can I not know you?" the voice retorted strongly. "I'm you, after all."

"Shut up," Derek snapped, his voice getting steadier as the conversation progressed. His body seemed to lighten. His dark, piercing eyes gazed forward to find the replica's blank glare with sealed lips. It was like he was wearing a mask that hid his features. Either that or he was a mime.

"You know I'm right," the voice insisted. "It's the only reason you've become as smart as you are. But books don't ward problems away, Derek. Stop trying to run away. Stop trying to hide everything you feel," the voice provoked.

Derek's teeth grit tighter and tighter, his clenched fist making his nails dig deep into the palm of his hand. The pain was bearable in the anger enveloped state he found himself in. "No!" he growled through his teeth, his eyes narrowing slowly. "That's not true! I'm not trying to hide from anything. What you're saying is completely wrong!"

"Oh is it?" the booming voice echoed once again. As if on cue to the godly voice, birds began to come to life and flutter out of the trees and bushes, their bodies black with ebony, their identities completely enveloped in darkness armor. Their wings flapped crazily through the air, their bodies unsteady as they glided with panicky senses through the dead night. The fluttering of their wings filled Derek's ears completely, the sound soon becoming unbearable as the birds that resembled deviant ravens circled the innocent Shadow Minor, the teenage boy becoming more and more panicky by the second as his eyes raced from left to right, watching the zooming birds come from all directions, the confusing patterns closing in on him steadily as he lost himself in the fluttering world of darkness. "Have you become that blind?" the godly voice echoed as the birds completely enveloped him now in a state of panic, wrapping around him with their fearful wings, covering him in complete darkness, taking him away from the orange night. "Are you not that same, defenseless child you were back then who was full of worries?"

The voice filled Derek's mind with crazy thoughts as the fluttering of wild wings died away. Derek now found himself in complete darkness left and right, nothing there but himself. What's going on? He thought through panic. His breath wanted to become heavy, but was caught somehow. His eyes became widened with denial, not wanting to believe what the voice was telling him. He felt invaded, as if he had become brainwashed. Is what he's saying true? Am I really still… that kid I was back then? He thought, peering with a shaking stare into the empty darkness ahead.

The darkness shivered in front of his very own eyes, and slowly formed a figure that he recognized soon enough. In the ebony distance was the vision of himself, but nothing like the replica from the orange frost he was in before. It was himself when he was a child, the small kid with the same straight black hair, crying his eyes out in anxiety that almost consumed him completely.

Derek's breath grew unsteady to inhuman rates as the child in front of him seemed completely unreal. His younger self seemed solemn, his big, childish eyes depressed on the floor, nothing but darkness and his own thoughts surrounding him. His head bowed, his tiny, weak limbs seemed to drag from his shoulders. His small face gave no tears, but a halfhearted gaze instead. "He's right, you know," the younger Derek told the older one. The older widened his eyes in fear. He was petrified. Hearing that young, familiar voice took his fear and pushed it even further. The nostalgia of the anxious past wrapped around him like a crazy wildfire that could not have been stopped from the beginning. The vision seemed so unreal to Derek. Even though the younger him was a few feet away in the empty space, he seemed so far away. "There is no real difference between you and I," the child spoke again, the high pitched, nostalgic voice ringing in Derek's ears.

The Shadow Minor found himself frozen in the past, old memories of troubles and worrying every single day of his life shaking his emotions violently with a grip that wouldn't wear down. "You still depend on what you know to carry away your problems, even if you don't realize it. I'd rather just die right now than to grow up to be someone like you," the young one spoke with his innocent, depressed voice. Derek's eyes widened even more, the pupils dilating to half their size and shaking violently like a vibrating beeper. The big wave of a wake up call ate away his beliefs and thoughts; everything he believed was now washed away with the crashing waves of the past. Would I… Derek thought, using all his effort just to get his mind to work. Would I really… think that? Have I really failed myself? I… I thought I had become the person I wanted to be. I thought everything was over…

"Just go away…" the younger Derek said, his eyes hard on the floor. No tears streaked from his large, brazen eyes. He refused to make eye contact with his own future self. Have I really become a disappointment to everyone, even myself? Derek thought wildly, feeling all of his personality and thoughts lose themselves, the tight hold he thought he had becoming a weak caressing. Now, everything he had ever known – or a better way of putting it as thought, flailed through his mind unstably, the big idea of the future and present dissolving like sugar in water. I need another chance, Derek thought. I – I can still get rid of the person I am…! Another try is what I need! Another chance! He thought wildly, losing himself in his own mind. He felt as if his brain were about to burst. He felt his sanity run loose as he felt completely helpless, trapped in the darkness that imprisoned him in a psychotic hold.

The child in front of him raised his head slowly, his vindicated eyes meeting Derek's slowly. "Just die," he told him, letting Derek find the wet eyes begin to pour out, the frown growing slowly on his expression, showing his despairing teeth underneath. No! Derek cried out silently in his own thoughts. Another chance! As the two selves had their eyes meet with one glance, in one second, the darkness began to consume the child, taking millions of thick streaks to wrap around his body, and fading him away into nothing but emptiness.

Derek widened his eyes as all the reality began to crash down on him like a gunshot from the past. He found himself speechless and lost, not knowing what to say or do. One wrong move could make everything come down on him even more, yet he had nothing to lose anymore. I can't believe everything I thought – everything I lived through was all wrong, all a misconception of what I wanted to become, and not what I actually was. If I had been doing it wrong the first time, then… then what now? What do I do now!?

_"Just die," _his younger self's voice repeated in his mind suddenly and loudly, the words clear to Derek's ears.

PoVS

Dylan waited in the cold night as he stared hard at himself. It was like looking in a mirror, he thought. They both gave suspicious stares to each other, and began to circle each other as their feet shuffled on the frozen frost in the air. The stars blanked out completely above, and no source of light ever came. Time seemed as if it had frozen. The branches of the trees used to rattle wildly with the brushing winds, but now, they stood still, unused and unwanted. The lush, green bushes used to sway with light breezes that came to visit. But no winds blew any longer. Not even the slightest breeze was there. The ground was stiff as ever, the air thick with a strange feeling.

"What's that sorry look on your face? Wipe it off!" a booming voice came toward Dylan. It sounded like his own voice, just angrier and unnatural, as if someone had caught his voice and was using it against him in the bleak orange world he had awoken himself into. The echoing voice seemed to come from his replica's direction, yet the copy showed no lip movement. "What's the matter?" the voice boomed. "Don't recognize yourself?"

Dylan gulped. What the hell is going on? He thought, making sure he still had his sanity. "What're you talking about?" Dylan demanded, his puzzled mind muddy and greasy with confusion.

"Don't kid with me!" the booming voice demanded as well. "Don't pretend you don't realize that you're still the little boy you were back then inside."

"What? You're making no sense," Dylan implied, the two twinned people continuing to circle each other, the brushing of their slippers against the dry soil the only sound heard for miles. Dylan tightly clenched his fist in an annoyed fashion.

Suddenly, the replica stopped and closed his eyes, as if focusing on something. Dylan took notice and froze. He watched carefully with watchful eyes that seemed as if they could pierce even the darkest of the darkness. He began to fill his fists with the live, green energy just in case. The teenage boy in front of him began to fade away into the orange of the night, disappearing with a shivering figure that seemed completely unnatural. What…What's going on? Dylan thought, thinking that he was hallucinating what he was seeing.

Soon, the teenage replica of him grew to a smaller, child-like version of him. He recognized himself immediately. The short, white hair, and the innocent emerald eyes that always seemed to be crying or smiling. It was never something in the middle. The child form of him brought back memories as he immediately began to cry, his stubby little fingers tightly locked in an angry fist, brushing away the tears with just a little too much energy. His tiny legs shook violently and weakly, about to collapse any second.

What the hell? Dylan thought as his eyes widened in shock. What… what is this? An illusion? "I – I don't understand," Dylan spoke with a shaking voice, his eyes refusing to peel from the child, trying to make sure that it was definite what he was seeing. He didn't know what else to say, or even think. The sudden image was just so random and so strikingly powerful, it had let loose all his awareness of the danger that could take place anytime soon.

"Isn't this how you were back then?" the booming voice returned. It seemed to come from somewhere above now, somewhere high above. Somewhere like the moon. But the moon couldn't talk. The thought was just crazy. So who was talking? The despaired wails of his childhood self filled Dylan's ears with the memory of sadness he had felt long ago. "Have you forgotten all ready what your parents put you through?"

"My… my parents?" Dylan said bleakly, his voice automatic and monotonous like a robot's. How does this guy know about my parents? Why am I seeing myself in front of me? This world doesn't make sense anymore! "What- what are you!?" Dylan demanded in a stammer.

A figure suddenly moved in the orange darkness. The person crept out of the shadow and walked up, stopping when he reached the side of the crying child who refused to let his eyes open, hoping that the darkness of his eyelids would take him away from this world. Dylan remembered thinking and hoping that a long time ago. The sorrow of those thoughts never ceased to remind him of everything that happened. The figure stood coolly next to the child, his eyes narrowed in an angry gaze. He resembled Dylan, but this time, the teenage version.

Two replications? Dylan thought wildly. What's going on here? I want to know, now, Dylan thought as he felt his sanity lose its stability. There's no way something like this can happen, he told himself. Maybe I'm just crazy. Yeah, that's it. I've got to be crazy. "You don't recognize yourself? I told you to wipe that sorry look off your face," the teenage replication of Dylan spoke out, this time his lips actually moving. The movement of his copy seemed so unreal, and made the real one feel as if his identity had been taken away. Who am I now? Dylan thought crazily.

Suddenly, another teenage version of him walked out from behind a tree, going to the vacant spot beside the crying child. "Can't you see your life is going nowhere? You thought if you could be as different as possible as your parents were, you'd be the nicest, best person around, right? How pathetic. It'll do nothing for your future. You're failing everything you thought you would be," the third replica told in a demanding voice, trying to shake the real Dylan to the so called reality.

N-No way, Dylan thought, his expression locked in a tightening of fear and slow realization that he failed to want. "It…" the child began to speak, taking a deep breath, the tears so overwhelming that it caught his voice after every word. Dylan slowly turned his stare hesitantly to the child. A part of him wanted to hear what he had to say, and the other half wanted to take his hands and shut his ears and close his eyes as best as he could. The curious one won. "It's all… all your fault," the child stammered, taking sniffs after this word and that. The long, overtaking sniffs filled Dylan's ears with the nostalgic cries of the past. "You… you could've tried – tried harder, but- but you didn't, and… you failed m-me. I… I hate you!" he cried out as hard as he could, the tears coming out even harder now, the child crouching to support his face as he masked his wet expressions with a mask of fingers. The two teenager replicas stood beside him and stared at the real one accusingly as Dylan had his stare widened in realization. He was completely caught now, and everything they said had hit him like an overwhelming blast.

_"I hate you!" _the words repeated quickly in his mind, freezing his expression even further. No… Dylan thought bleakly. It can't be… No…!! he cried through his mind as he felt the sanity leave his body entirely.

PoVS

Lance waited in the clearing dust and smoke as his breathing picked up. This is going to be a really, really bothersome fight, Lance thought as he stared hard at the millions of snakes glaring at him with an accusing stare. They hissed evilly at him, and at some scale, Lance wished he knew just what he had done to make them so angry at him.

"I see," Otoshiana said weakly. "So you're another one of those," he spoke, his accent becoming more and more human as the seconds passed.

"Another one of what?" Lance demanded an answer from Otoshiana. With Rick and Marissa so far away, the Lightning Minor gulped as he listened closely.

"Those people that promise and promise that they are who they are, but when it comes down to it, and when they finally get caught, their whole world comes crashing down on them, and they're exposed for the fraud that they really are," Otoshiana spoke wearily. "I really thought at some point that you would make at least a good challenge. However, obviously, at this point, you are not."

"Oh? And what makes you think that?" Lance demanded, not really caring to redeem the name that Otoshiana had labeled him.

"Because," Otoshiana began with his monotonous tone. "You fell for this trick."

Otoshiana's words confused Lance, but as if on cue to the growing thought in his mind, Lance immediately felt a shooting, searing pain through his right leg, and felt cool metal sink into his body. The wild pain was so sudden, it consumed Lance as he shot out a cough of blood, his legs and body growing suddenly weak. A second passed, and Lance felt as if he was about to collapse to the floor, his eyes becoming heavy and weak, suddenly weighing a million tons. As he felt his senses get lost, the coldness never seemed to wear off in the night, and twinkling stars above flashed a set of sorrowful flashes as the Minor fell to the floor.


	54. Chapter 54

Lance bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain. The coldness of the night seemed piercing as he held the bursting hurt rush through his chest, getting even more intense at his right leg. He bit harder and harder, his winced eyes shaking in restraint. He began to bite his bottom lip so hard, that blood began to leak out like a teardrop down his chin. That moment right after, he couldn't hold it back any longer and coughed out a splotch of blood violently. It made a fearful redness on the floor, spikes of blood around the circle, as if it wanted to creep more outward, dominating everything. Lance began to take deep breaths as he found it harder and harder to do so. The pain had almost completely left him, and a cool, hardness seemed to wrap around his leg. He picked his head up a little, his silver eyes meeting with Otoshiana's red, demonic ones.

"Biting your lip?" Otoshiana noticed. "Have you become so desperate that you caused pain for your own self?" he smirked in his electronic, surreal voice. It seemed to pierce the night.

Breath still heavy and legs still struggling to stand up, Lance took a moment longer to catch his breath. He brought a weak arm to his face and brushed the line of blood away from his mouth. "It's the only cure I've found for pain from someone else. Hurting myself, that is, if it makes sense," Lance piqued. He brought his back straight up again and felt the sweat begin to leak out of his body, the temperature rising around him. He peered down to find a devilish, metallic snake wrapped around his right foreleg, injecting a metal syringe into the armored skin. Its body crawled back into underground, immediately indicating where it had come from so suddenly.

As Lance continued to feel the dreadful liquid fill his leg and swim into his blood stream, he felt his breath pick up and his energy run loose. Moments later, the snake pulled back, ripping out the syringe horrifyingly and falling limp to the floor, leftover purple liquid pooling around its head. It gave a blank, widened stare as it lost the will to live, fulfilling its purpose. Its eyes seemed to gaze accusingly at Lance, ironically.

Lance tried to move. His legs began to shake, but his feet felt like tons, as if they were trapped inside large cinderblocks. I can't move, Lance realized, gritting his teeth in resistance. Damn it! I can't breathe too well, either. What the hell did he do to me?

"Looks like the poison's taking affect all ready," Otoshiana spoke loudly, his voice booming off the dead forest grounds. Nothing but dirt seemed to surround the scene. "Good," Otoshiana mumbled. "There wouldn't be a point to it if it didn't start working right away."

"What…" Lance began, his voice weakening just like the rest of his body. "What'd you do to me?"

"I filled your leg with a poison that, as you've taken notice all ready, weakens your lungs and clouds your mind. It also freezes your nerve system, and if you keep going at this rate, you should die by morning, which is only a few hours away," Otoshiana answered robotically. He turned for his gaze to fall upon the unmoving Lightning Minor. His eyes were wide with blankness, like an open door to his blank mind. He seemed as if he were in a trance. Otoshiana's piercing red eyes seemed to shoot through Rick, killing his spirit instantly. "I told you," Otoshiana spoke monotonously. "You're the last one to die after all."

Rick stared blankly, as if his eyes resisted blinking. He turned mindlessly towards Marissa, who wasn't too far away from him. She was still imprisoned tightly against the bark of a tree, her eyes closed in a faraway trance unreachable, even for Rick. The Lightning Minor then turned his head to find the struggling Lance, his limbs shaking violently, yet failing to move even an inch. He's right… Rick admitted to himself, getting a thought out after some time.

Back at the empty space and padded dirt, Lance began to give up. I can feel the poison taking over my body, he thought. I'm weakening, and… He tried to make balled up aluminum foil from his hands to test his powers. It wouldn't seem to work. The poison's affecting my powers, too, Lance realized, not believing his luck. If I can't move, and can't use my Half-Spirit, I'm going to die even before Otoshiana said I would. Shit! Lance complained in anger in his head. I can't let it end like this! I can't be the first one to die! Lance's silver eyes peered up to find the confident look of Otoshiana. He felt all the energy in his body drain away from him, and the metal armor began to sink away, revealing the tanned skin of the distressed Minor.

The weight of the arsenal of snakes began to sink on Otoshiana's body. It's stressful to work these things, but in the end, they're perfect, Otoshiana thought. Something you promised me a long time ago, the blue robotic person thought as he peered up to the sky blankly, finding the glimmering stars shower their light on the scene. However, being the person you were, you'd be very much glad to hear that I followed your ways, wouldn't you? As expected, he received no reply. Well, at least after I finish these kids off you will. I promise.

"Senchi!" Otoshiana returned to the present, calling upon his millions of snakes at his arsenal. The snakes picked up their heads in reaction. "Go! Finish him," Otoshiana commanded. This time, Otoshiana thought as the snakes began churning, making tension-rising motion. This time, I'll make you happy… and proud.

The snakes slithered in the air violently as they took one last second to hiss at the weakened Minor in front of them. They zoomed through the air with blinding speed, their beady metal eyes gleaming with the faint moonlight and confidence. As they crept closer and closer to Lance, the tension seemed to break off the charts.

Damn it… Lance thought as the serpents inched closer to him. He bowed his head down and waited. The clattering of metal shafts against each other filled his head, and the imprisoning coldness was like a pep beat for the spreading poison. Then, finally, a louder clang of metal was heard, and Lance was left completely safe.

"What?!" Otoshiana demanded loudly, his robotic voice revealing all his rising anger. "This doesn't make sense!"

"Of course it does," Lance spoke weakly, not even sure if Otoshiana had heard him. From far away, Rick watched with awe. Lance's breathing was thinning, and the Minor knew he was running out of time. A few feet away from Lance was a titanic metal barrier in the shape of a net, as if a strainer for the millions of snakes. They were scrambled inside the wrapping metallic net, and their poison leaked out, ineffective against the metal net. The hissing of hot acid from the snakes' mouths swam up to the night sky above.

Otoshiana stared from far away as the metallic shafts connected the two destinies, one of them in total shock and the other one feeling at least a little ounce of security. "N-No way!" Otoshiana claimed. His reddened eyes were bold with a demonic light, and finally, they weathered down to their normal state in realization. "I see," he said. "I understand completely now. It's not that the metal protecting you now was made recently," Otoshiana began, his voice calmer. "It's the metal from before all this started."

"Yeah, looks like you got it," Lance said, smiling a resistant curve. That was the thing about Lance. No matter what conditions he was put through, he would always flash a smile, and somehow, it would make things a little simpler.

On cue, both the opposing forces remembered back then, when Otoshiana had just risen from the ground, and team two was still running through the wet forest tiredly. With the image still weary, Otoshiana had raised from the dirt paved path, the brown mush sticking to his full body armor. Only a while later did the tiny, shuffling metallic balls that Lance had put into the forest as a trap wrap around Otoshiana and cause such a high rate of friction, that there was a loud, blasting explosion.

Returning from the sudden flashback, Otoshiana took notice. "That metal was never left there, was it?" Otoshiana interrogated.

Lance scoffed. "I don't believe in wasting very much, unless it's absolutely necessary," the Metal Minor spoke, his jaw weak, yet the tone in his voice pitched to such a level that it made him look completely normal.

"I see," Otoshiana said deeply. His voice was all serious, and sometimes even hid his anger. The anger he didn't even realize he had deep inside him, just lying there like a lump in his stomach, a monument of a memory wanted to be forgotten.

"Now!" Lance cried out in the navy blue darkness. His voice was surprisingly strong, as if he had begun recovering, but it wasn't true. The poisonous pain still lingered around every inch of his body, inside and out. The sudden cry widened Otoshiana's red, brilliant, gleaming eyes.

All of a sudden, metallic strings seemed to spring from the tree canopies behind Otoshiana, wrapping around him like a weak cage that was barely visible in the blank night. Otoshiana felt each one zoom from different directions and soon, the metal wires overtook him, and all his limbs were unavailable to use. All the while, he remained completely calm, as if nothing were happening. "What?" Otoshiana spoke calmly and robotically. "A trap of your own?" he said as he jerked his head up to find a set of thin, glimmering needles placed above his head by many feet.

"You really thought you were the only one with traps?" Lance said with a weak smirk. Damn it, he thought, his mind completely ironic to the way he spoke. It's even hard to smile, Lance took notice.

With a declaration from the mind, the metal needles began to release their suspense in the sky, coming down with a sharp, thin cry like a million insects swarming together. Their thin bodies shimmered in the glowing moonlight as they sliced the air in their way. They inched closer and closer to Otoshiana, as if a revenge attack for the millions of snakes sent after Lance.

Keeping his eyes glaring straight up mindlessly, Otoshiana reacted seconds before the needles came in contact with him, and a metal, spinning blade released from the back of his shoulders and cut the wires expertly and quickly, wasting no time and energy at all. Then, as if a joke, an old style, metallic umbrella sprung from Otoshiana's shoulders, and soon, the sound of needles against metal was heard. They would fall from the roof of the umbrella and down to the floor, still glimmering after they failed their purpose.

As Otoshiana felt the freedom to move return to his body, the umbrella closed back to its thin state and sunk back inside his shoulder. The trap was all over now, and had completely failed. Lance grits his teeth, the only thing he could control at this point. The Senchi returning to be used again at his arsenal, Otoshiana gave the same blank stare that revealed no emotion whatsoever. "That's the difference between you and me," he began to tell Lance, who had no choice but to listen to his monotonous, booming voice. "My traps are affective because I use them for a reason. Yours aren't because you use them just to get out of situations that leave you clueless."

"Oh?" Lance mocked. "And what might that reason be, if not to get out of situations like the one I put you in?"

"That reason is something completely off topic from what you have to think about," Otoshiana refused to speak about the reason. "You should stay with what you should be dealing with instead of looking for simple stories to amuse you, should you not?"

Lance decided to hold back his words. Anything he would say would just make him more annoyed at how Otoshiana spoke to him, and more tired by thinning his breath with every word he spoke. "That's something you're going to have to learn," Otoshiana said finally, as if concluding the fight. "Senchi, go!" he commanded the millions of snakes. His arsenal reacted immediately, zooming through the air once more and crashing into the metal barrier again, the loud booming of the millions of serpents spreading through the barren field they fought in. As they did that, the other half spread to the back of Otoshiana, and began melting the forest with their deadly poison, crashing into the ground and trees that hissed the steamy gas into the sky above.

What's he attacking the forest behind him for? Lance thought, trying to figure out Otoshiana's strategy as the metal barrier defended him from the other half of the army sent against him. Somehow, the night began to warm up. My senses are acting up, Lance realized. The poison's really getting to me quickly.

"Just so you won't make any more of those annoying traps again," Otoshiana answered Lance's thoughts, as if reading his mind. "The other half of my snakes serve a purpose as well."

Lance took a sharp, painful gasp as he struggled to look up and find the metal barrier hissing wildly, chunks of it beginning to melt. "What…?" Lance's voice came out in a whisper. The metal barrier was failing.

"I knew that the regular poison I used wasn't enough to get rid of your metal," Otoshiana began, reading Lance's mind yet again. "So I switched it while you were setting up your trap with my highest level of poison, A1," Otoshiana explained. "Your metal will soon fall apart completely."

He was right. Lance watched in resistance as his metal barrier fell to the floor bit by bit and chunk by chunk in a sloppy blob of melting silver. This isn't good, Lance thought as he felt his anger rise. How am I going to defend myself from future attacks now? The hissing poison smoked the air with a white haze as the snakes began to pull back.

"Now," Otoshiana declared the final attack. "You should die completely under any circumstances after this attack from the Senchi," Otoshiana noted. "I'll use the extended poison horn with A1 poison." As his words came out, the metallic snakes began to drag out elongated forms of their regular point for poison, making the poison leak out and glisten in the growing moonlight.

Along with the readying final attack, Lance's temples began to pulse, the sound overtaking the inside of his ears. He felt as if his head were about to burst any second, and his efforts to breathe failed, the intakes of air not even as thin anymore. Damn it… he thought weakly. "Go!" Otoshiana declared.

The metal snakes rushed across the air with the glistening poison, their mouths wide open in an inhuman hunger. They inched closer and closer as Lance wished he could move, but his legs failed any purpose to inch away. It was like his body had become a comrade to Otoshiana.

As Lance kept his eyes wide open and aware, keeping some hope up, his wishes were granted as the snakes were stopped short once again. This time, the first poison point was a centimeter away from Lance as it was caught by something so powerful and strong; it even held back the purple liquid that leaked out in a threat. Lance's eyes began to shake and kept on the snake and its glistening dagger so close to him, his teeth chattering at some point. His expression was locked in a blank stare of fear.

"**Magunechikku Hara –Magnetic Field!-" came a familiar voice from far away.**

**"No way!" Lance cried out in a whisper, his eyes peering to the side, careful with the frozen snake in front of him, just half a centimeter away from his nose. His thoughts were correct. In the distance by the melted forest stood the one and only Lightning Minor, Rick, his eyes wide open in confidence and his hands put out in the air, glowing with an ominous yellow glow that seemed to illuminate the darkest depths of the night. His blonde hair quivered lightly in the wind and his teeth were gritted in a tight lock of confidence.**

**"There's no way you can kill my friends without killing me first," Rick told Otoshiana as the red piercing eyes of the robotic being peered at him blankly. "No matter how close they are," Rick said through gritted teeth. And as the snakes weakened and the tension began to rise, Lance knew that the battle would turn out to be something totally different than what he had first expected it to be.**


	55. Chapter 55

The snakes continued to rattle in an invisible struggle at Lance's face, the silent night filled with nothing but a slight clattering of metal. Soon, lowering the tension, the silver blue snakes crashed to the floor at Lance's feet, as if they had been glued to the floor. They seemed as if they would spring back to life any second, which rattled Lance's nerves as he swallowed a constantly growing lump in his throat. The night's coolness was ignored by everyone, and as time seemed to be close to running out, the struggles seemed to grow.

The faint glowing of Rick's palms never stopped. They were like a holy light come to remind Lance that nothing would end without a fight. Otoshiana's threatening red eyes revealed something deep as he gave a hard, secretive stare at Rick and his efforts to help his comrade.

"Why…?" Otoshiana muttered solemnly. "Why do you try so hard to assist your friend?" he asked in a bit of sadness. Resistant memories are coming back, Otoshiana realized.

"Because…" Rick's voice rattled. His arms and body seemed to rattle in unison with the blue snakes in restraint. His teeth tightly grit, Rick gave a hard stare at Otoshiana and his leering eyes. "They mean something to me… no matter how close a friend might be, they'll always mean something to me. It's my purpose," Rick explained. "Just like you have your own to come after us, I have my own to defend those I care about."

"Your purpose?" Otoshiana repeated dimly. He seemed to scoff on the inside. "Don't screw with me!" he accused loudly through the piercing night. His red, demonic pupils seemed to widen in a growing anger, like a brushfire that wouldn't stop spreading, no matter what. "My purpose is much more serious than yours!" he shouted loudly, a deep meaning in his eyes glimmering in the cool moonlight. Behind the wildfire anger embedded in his eyes was the sadness he didn't realize he had.

Suddenly, the snakes from behind Otoshiana that weren't held by the magnetic field raced to his assistance, soaring through the night cold with a threatening hiss that rang in Rick's ears. As they neared the Lightning Minor, he reacted quickly to the army of cold-metal serpents. Doing various swift and expert flips and turns, he dodged each diving snake as they crashed into the ground with a loud clatter. He was beginning to be forced back into the faraway forest that hadn't been melted away as the rain of serpents continued. Crashing of dirt and metal filled his head as he found no time to breathe. Rick soon flipped away into the trees, the snakes hot on his trail.

Surrounded by the pillaring wood and bushes, he ran past uncared for weeds and solid, packed dirt. His hands still glowing with the ominous hum, the snakes hissed as they zoomed and ducked under branch after branch. Rick could almost feel the poison on his skin as he rushed past the late night's cold and the dampened wood of the small portion of the forest left.

Turning, Rick rushed to the side, the snakes pausing to stop their continuous rush, then racing after him. The numbers seemed to increase mysteriously as the snakes followed the blonde through the forest, and Rick didn't even sweat a drop. He wouldn't give up just yet, just like he had promised. Not only to help Lance, but…

_"It's okay, I promise, everything's going to be all right," Rick had held Marissa so closely to him, comforting her as he filtered her brunette-blonde hair through his fingers. Her wet tears soaked his new, old style clothes, but he didn't care. Her body shook in his hold, and she so desperately tried to answer, but he knew that she knew he would keep his promise._

Returning to the rushing forest that seemed to run past him as he jumped expertly from branch to branch, feeling the cold wood for assurance as he passed by each one, Rick held a confident look on his face. Hearing the rustling of bushes behind him, he knew the snakes would soon come. He looked back to find the distant, curvy shafts zoom toward him from far away. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes slightly at their appearance.

Returning his eyes to the front, he found the unthawing night awaiting him through an opening the trees had so naturally made. I'm almost at the end of the forest, Rick realized. I'm going to have to get them off my trail. I can't have anything interfere with my "purpose". Feeling the leafy trees wave hi and goodbye, Rick stopped by a tree branch and brushed his hand against the cool, damp trunk of the tall tree. The glowing of his palm was distributed to the panel on the tree's bark. The glowing soon faded, and Rick pulled back his hand, taking one lasting good look at the wood. That should do it, Rick promised himself in assurance. Seconds later, he found himself back to heading towards the end of the everlasting trees.

The snakes soared through the air expertly, varying their motions as they passed tree after tree after tree, rocketing by with amazing speed and agility. The agile serpents rushed as they neared the end of the forest and lost sight of the Minor that they held in their eyes for so long through the wild chase. Suddenly, something began pulling them back. Something powerful and attracting, something they couldn't resist. The force beckoned them, and they hesitantly followed. They were pulled to the left altogether and crashed into a glowing, circular panel on a random tree. Their heads couldn't move an inch, and they were locked together in a binding prison. They hissed a string of their own curses at Rick as they realized what had happened.

Coming out of the forest, Rick ran with bravery and undying courage. He soon found himself at Lance's side, sending back the millions of snakes in front of him back to Otoshiana who found it troublesome to take on two Minors at once. "Rick…!" Lance muttered weakly.

"Don't try to talk," Rick said, stepping up in a defensive way in front of Lance. He shifted his weight and readied his body for another attack. "Your body's completely worn out, and you can't even use your own Half Spirit to defend yourself," Rick pointed out. "Please, let me be your arms and legs for now until we can figure out a way to get rid of your poison."

"Impossible," Otoshiana interrupted, the wavering snakes in the air sewing themselves back into their readied position in front of their owner. "My poison's so intense that not even my weakest level can be cured. Each and every one of them is completely unique in their own way, and there is no known cure for a wound that has been infected by one."

"Shut up!" Rick shouted angrily, feeling the confidence levels in his body rise and tense up. "So, how about it?" he said calmer this time, turning back to Lance.

Lance shook his head in agreement, hesitating at first. "Thank you," he wished silently, his voice still weak and his breath still thin. Rick smiled in assurance and turned back. Lance kept his eyes on Rick's back as he wondered what would happen next. He knew even Rick didn't know. This guy… Lance thought, watching the readied back of his comrade. He was so quick to defend me even though he barely knew me. If it had been anyone else, I would be dead right now, he realized, feeling a tiny sense of weakness in him. And also, he seems to all ready have a close bond with that girl… he thought as he peered to his side and saw the Sound Minor tightly wrapped in that metal fist against the tree.

Lance remembered the times she had fought with him so angrily and comically, their voices so loud they could awake polar bears from a winter's worth of hibernation. He remembered how snobby she was when she yelled and complained, and how whiny her voice sounded. Now, he looked at her weakened state, her solemn, closed eyes and her motionless face. He must spoil her, Lance thought, a tiny smile growing on his face.

Still angry, Otoshiana awaited for what would come next, his leering gaze locked tight on the two Minors before him. His deviant stare was heavy on the two boys. For kids, these two aren't too bad, Otoshiana thought. The undying coldness of the night seemed to begin to seep into Otoshiana's armor. But what are kids like them doing in a place such as this anyway? They look much too young and different from the rest of us to be two people locked up in here by force. Also, they're in a team and none of the diabolical creations that live here ever work together. Our purpose is to kill each other, before we get killed, and nothing more than that. No matter, Otoshiana thought, quickly getting over it. It just means that they'll die even quicker, no matter what their efforts may be.

"This guy's not too bad, huh?" Rick said quietly and friendlily, waking Lance from his deep thoughts. The Metal Minor stammered as he was awoken from his purposeful trance.

He scoffed and smirked as he replied, "Yeah. All his attacks seem perfect."

"I don't need pointless beings like you to tell me what I am," Otoshiana muttered demonically, his booming voice short enough so the Minors couldn't hear him speak. "Perfect is something he promised me a long time ago…" Otoshiana said, feeling himself being slowly sucked back into his memories from far, far away.

_"Father, what are you doing?" Otoshiana walked up to his father who sat comfortably in the inexpensive chair. It was a humid, boring day, and the air was filled with nothing but dullness. It seemed to linger everywhere, even indoors. You could even smell its thick aroma hung around the living room. The wooden paved walls and ceiling gave an old style look to the room. Not much furniture took their place in the room, which filled the room with even more stuffy boredom._

_Otoshiana's footsteps light and heavy, he slowly paced to his father, feeling the hot mixed with cold brush against his soft skin. His brown, long hair wavered slightly as he took careful steps creaking across the room. The wooden floor seemed to moan in despair. His stealth never failed to amaze people. Otoshiana peered over his father's arm as his hands worked on a metal cylinder. There were seven columns of the alphabet ringed around the cylinder, and he took time and consideration before he moved one ring to reveal a letter, but only to change his mind later. It seemed to glimmer in the strong light that gleamed through the room, the dust swept back into all the corners._

_His father took acknowledgement of his son as he smiled and peered down to find the blank, pondering eyes of his child. His fingers stopped moving around the puzzle and they both looked at each other for a minute. His old, wise eyes were creased in wisdom and his long face was wrinkled with age. His smile never failed to comfort you, though. He was an old man, but he was one of the nicest and good-hearted ones Otoshiana knew._

_Awaiting his answer, Otoshiana moved toward his father and took the metallic cylinder in his hands, feeling the encrypted rings of letters. They were bumpy and cragged, and the cool metal seemed to amuse Otoshiana's hot, dulled skin. "What is this?" Otoshiana asked in a high, innocent voice. He rotated the heavy cylinder in his hands, making sure not to drop it, even thought he had no idea what it was._

_"It's a new toy I've got recently. Would you like to play with it?" his father insisted kindly. He watched his young child as he closely examined the metal and braid-like rings of the cylinder once more. It seemed to amaze him completely, taking away his breath. "It's called a cryptex."_

_"How do you play?" Otoshiana asked, his voice childish and naïve. The small child found that the golden metal cylinder with the many arsenals of letters piqued his interest immediately from the moment he saw it from across the room. He was eager to find out how to play._

_"Each ring on the cylinder's shaft contains the full version of the alphabet on it. There is a right letter for each ring, and once you've got each one, it will spell out a message to you. Also, when the message is said, the cryptex will also open up and give you a special toy that it keeps inside," his father explained carefully, smiling as his son took the consideration to examine it even longer._

_"A toy? Really?" Otoshiana asked. His interest had now been taken even further in the heavy little cylinder. He couldn't help but grow a smile on his face. "But…" Otoshiana began sadly. At his sudden change of tone, his father showed a bit of sadness as well. "This is father's… right?" he asked, looking up to meet eyes with the old man._

_"It was," his father smiled. "Now it is yours to keep. It was actually for you in the first place."_

_"No way!" Otoshiana said excitedly, his small body practically jumping up and down on the wooden floor. "Thank you, father!" he said, coming towards him and giving the old man a tight hug, locking a painful yet affectionate lock around his body. The childish arms were soft and felt good to be in._

_His father laughed and smiled. "Anything for you, Oto-chan," he said softly, wrapping his large arms around his son. They came closer and their arms were wrapped so tight, Otoshiana didn't want to let go. He couldn't believe how great his father was. They soon found their heads at each other's shoulders. "Just one more thing," the father said quietly and softly._

_"What is it?" Otoshiana spoke with a smile, pulling away to meet cheerful eyes with wise, amused eyes. His tiny little arms were gripped affectionately around his father's large shoulders._

_His father leaned closer to Otoshiana, his mouth now at his child's left ear. "A hint for the message is the same thing as what you are," he whispered lightly, pulling back to find Otoshiana's loving reaction on his face._

_His son climbed off of his father and gave him a big smile once more. "Thanks once again, father! I'll get started on it right away!" he promised as he ran off to the other room, his footsteps loud against the wood paved floor. How great. His father had just turned one of the most boring days of the child's life into one of the most exciting._

_As the child's footsteps thumped away against the flat wood, the father stared as he watched his son run off, his mouth curved in an amused smile, his eyes crinkled in a binding happiness._

_Moments later, the young child found himself baffled by the complicated cylinder that once amused him. It used to be a sight for joy, and now it became a sight of disgust. Otoshiana sprawled himself on the disheveled sheets of his bed as he stared up to find the glimmering puzzle not the least bit solved. Hours had passed, and the young child brought a hand to scratch his head, which became a puzzle of its own. He whined a quiet whine of consistent annoyance, and he didn't know why the puzzle just wouldn't be solved. It was like it resisted being opened._

_"I want that toy," Otoshiana muttered as he laid out his tongue against the side of his chin, staring hard at the golden cylinder as he turned one of the seven rings around, the white letters clicking and rattling as they turned._

_The young boy remembered what his father had told him. "A hint for the message is what you are," he had told him, making it sound so simple. Now, Otoshiana realized that this puzzle was nothing but simple._

_The air still dull, Otoshiana ignored it all and focused completely on the puzzle. Something I am… he repeated in his mind. What am I? I don't know… he told himself. He whined again in his mind. I'll never get this thing done! How annoying this task has become. A seven-letter word for what I am… what could it be? Otoshiana thought, peering up with wondrous eyes._

_The next morning, Otoshiana found himself running through the wooden hallways to try and find his father. He couldn't help but let a wide smile grow on his face as his cheerful eyes peered down the hall, his footsteps heavy and excited._

_As he ran into the next room, he found his mother standing straight up, yawning as the sand and morning tears kept at her eyes, refusing to let go. She held a hand to her mouth as the yawn passed, and she soon acknowledged her son at the doorway. She was a tall confident woman, and her aging eyes could never be so beautiful. Her long, purple hair was formal and respectful, and she always seemed to strike a model's over exaggerating pose. "Oto-chan?" she muttered quietly as the yawn sunk away from her, her hand still at the front of her face. Her beautiful dark brown eyes welcomed Otoshiana to the early morning. "What are you doing up so early?"_

_"I just need to see father badly, and I can't seem to find him anywhere," Otoshiana spoke excitedly with a wide smile still spreading across his face, if such a smile could ever exist._

_"Oh? Is that so?" her mother said happily. "You can find him in the next room. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you," she said with a smile that showed her bright white teeth, her happiness mixing in with her son's. Otoshiana immediately ran off with the widest smile ever seen to the next room, his thumping footsteps soundless to his rushing ears._

_"Father?" he cried out in his high-pitched voice as he entered the next room. His pounding footsteps stopped._

_"Hm? Oto? What is it?" his father asked, just having awoken himself._

_"I stayed up all night for it, but I finally got it! I got it open!" he cried happily. "Cam you believe it?" the child sang in an innocent, melodic tune, taking out the metal cylinder from his pocket and showing his father. "I knew I won when it had suddenly clicked open. You see? I'm the master at puzzles like that," Otoshiana said proudly as his father took the puzzle in his hands and a smile grew on his face._

_"Looks like you've really gotten it," he said happily. "Good job. I'm proud of you, son," he said as he pat the child's head with his own hand. He carefully gave it back to him, and the child stared at it with gleaming eyes._

_Otoshiana read the words in his mind carefully. Perfect, he read the large, capitalized letters that were portrayed across the seven rings. I'm perfect is what father is saying, Otoshiana thought with a smile. "Thank you again, father," he cried out, giving the man a big hug that seemed to consume his body completely._

_The wrapping arms were full of energy and took the aging man by surprise, until suddenly the energy sunk away, as if it had been immediately sucked out. His father looked down to find Otoshiana with his eyes closed, and his mouth wide open, letting out some saliva out in a childish drool. His arms were tightly locked around his father, yet completely without energy. His eyes were closed in some kind of a trance faraway, the innocence of his small, brown eyes locked up for now in a silent doze. "Wow," his father muttered. "He really did it for all night, huh?" he smiled._

_Moments later, as the light poured in from the child's window, the father began to put him to bed, taking the disheveled sheets and putting them up to Otoshiana's small shoulders. His eyes were still closed angelically, and his mouth had finally closed. The father couldn't help but smile once more as he watched his son sleep quietly, and walked carefully to the nightstand to place the cryptex on the wooden furniture so the child would see it when he had awoke. "What's this?" the father noticed suddenly. He stared hard at the cryptex, and noticed that it hadn't even been opened. "I see," he smirked. "So he was so excited over what the cryptex spelt out as the message that he completely forgot about the toy inside," the father muttered to himself in amusement. With that same old, undying smile painted on his face, the father slowly walked out, taking one last look at his solemn-looking child as he slept quietly, then finally walked out, closing the door behind him with a silent, innocent click, as innocent as young Otoshiana was._

_As the man left the cryptex lay on the table silently, it seemed to wait for the child to wake up, holding the large letters across the shaft of its body, eerily spelling out "perfect" like a scar that would never was away. Never, ever…_

Returning from the sudden memory, Otoshiana quietly thought to himself. What a pointless mask he had put on, the older Otoshiana now thought grudgingly. How could I not have noticed what he truly was? Putting that stupid smile, promising that it would never wash away like the fool he was… how pointless! As I said before, things without a point should die! Now, it's time to get rid of two more pointless things… But why? Why did you have to go, father? Was it because I didn't make you proud enough? Was it because I wasn't good enough as a son for you? Don't worry. I'll make you proud now. I'll make you proud by following your footsteps!

As Otoshiana finished his thought, the Senchi began rattling wildly, threatening the two Minors before them suddenly. Lance, still breathing thinly watched as Rick stood protectively in front of him. "Let's go, Lance," Rick muttered without turning back.

"Yes, Rick," Lance said back, forcing his voice strong.


	56. Chapter 56

On his knees in the everlasting darkness, Derek stared hard at the empty ground beneath him. It was cold, so very cold, and he felt that his arms would soon become numb. Half his face hidden in shameful shadow, a pair of large, dark, piercing eyes circled him accusingly, the hard stare evil as the devil. "Always worrying every single day," a big booming voice's echo chanted. "It's still the same… nothing has changed… open your eyes!" the voice cried out again, its echo chanting like a memoir.

Derek continued to kneel, as if giving up entirely in everything he had thought himself to be. It is still the same… he thought helplessly. Isn't it? Something's not right… Derek thought crazily. Something – no, everything's not right! It's like I haven't grown at all…

The eyes continued to circle the confused Minor, the eternal darkness like noting at all, yet empty and spacious. What is there to prove to me that things aren't the way they seem they are? Derek thought as he brought a hand to his throat, trying to clam himself. The hand slid carefully down his chest, and came across something that didn't feel like skin. The Minor cocked his head up to find the wrapping bandages that were put around his chest because of the Eruption incident. The snaking bandages were black with ebony yet serving a good purpose.

I see, Derek realized, his eyes wide open as he ignored everything around him. His hand trembled slightly as they ran over the soft, prickly bandages. It's not the same as before, it's really not! Derek thought in an anticipating thought. Slowly, it felt like everything was landing back to the surface, everything piecing each other together magically in a frozen setting in time. Slowly, he began to remember, the things that kept him knowing that he was who he was, for real.

He remembered Eruption breaking his crashing fist into his ribcage and coughing out splotches of blood, the uneven surface behind him breaking into pieces. Derek remembered saving Dylan from the exploding lava with his shade shield, and how confident he was to help who helped him. Confident, not worried. Not worried one bit. He remembered scoffing at Zack in the orange halls of the Inner World, and laughing at his idiocy, not worrying what he might do next. He remembered walking with Jeremy in the hot, scorching desert, trying to wake him from that wild trance he had been put in with an overwhelming headache and nosebleed, calling out to the small child, hoping to bring him back, not worrying. The voices of those times echoed in his mind, the images repeating like a broken slideshow. He remembered fighting Hibiyomi, and how he had carefully solved how to release himself from the Darkness. He remembered everything he's been through, and all of it reminded him… that the voices he heard now were wrong.

Returning from the world of recollection, the ominous pair of eyes continued to circle him, that accusing stare never worn out. "You're a failure!" his own voice boomed. "You're a failure, and you'll always try to run away, hoping that academic smarts would help you through the problems and nothing else!"

"No," Derek muttered slightly, picking up his feet and balancing his stance. He could feel the normal energy return to his legs, the will to stand growing in his heart again. "You're wrong."

"Who are you to say that? You know deep inside that you're still the scared, tiny little kid that you are. Why do you try to deny everything that poses a threat to you?" the godly voice boomed once again, echoing off the dark filled space.

"Who am I to say that?" Derek repeated angrily. "I'm myself, if I can't describe myself, then who will?!" the Minor shouted angrily at the voice and the spinning pair of glaring eyes. "When you say that I'm scared and worry all day, you're wrong! You're wrong a million times over, got that? You can't tell me who I am, or who I've become, and you can't use how I was back then against me. So you're wrong, you're completely wrong when you tell me who I am!"

Derek growled angrily at the spacious darkness, feeling the coldness of it leave him somehow. The pair of eyes soon slowed and closed, and the booming voice was silenced. What's going on? Derek thought calmly. Why did everything change? The darkness around him quivered lightly like salt in hot water. Stripes of the outer world began to reveal themselves in the shivering shadows, and finally, they dispersed away, like dust to the air.

The feel of normal was felt once again, leaving Derek as confused as before. Derek felt the light winds of the night again, and the dark navy blue of the sky, not the pale, photographic orange. The life around him quivered as the light breezes blew, comforting Derek in the world he always knew, and not that crazy, psychotic orange world where nothing moved. The bushes swayed lightly and the canopies of trees rustled rigorously. Still confused, Derek looked around for his teammates. They were nowhere to be found.

They haven't returned yet, Derek thought. I'm the first one. Just where were we? Derek piqued. Suddenly, a noise emerged from behind him. Derek turned quickly and cautiously, the coldness of the night sweeping against him as his eyes turned their glare to the other direction. The sound was repetitive, like a monotonous knock that never ended. It was and could only be a clap that echoed through the foresting trees. Someone else is here, Derek realized as he gritted his teeth, readying himself.

The light applause seemed to run over him as another presence slid out of the dark, damp trees. It was a woman with her hands going in the sarcastic applause. She had the longest, black hair with the blankest beady eyes that stared off into space. A crooked smile was portrayed on her face, a smirking grin. Her eyes were narrowed coolly, as if to say she was better than everything she knew. Her pose sassy and showy, she stopped the applause and began to speak. "Well, well, looks like someone's gotten out," she spoke wearily yet full of energy.

"Who are you?" Derek said blankly, ignoring her seductive pose.

"I've got to give you credit, though, you got out faster than anyone else," the woman answered. She seemed to refuse to answer Derek's question. "But this is the end of the road for you," she said blankly and dully, changing her tone completely. As her words spilled out into Derek's ears, the sound of glass cracking began to surround the Minor mysteriously.

What's going on? Derek thought as he stared from left to right, yet finding nothing unusual Staring back at the woman in front of him, she glared back as well, her eyes showing and glowing with a bit of glow to them. Looking up, Derek found the old, gibbous moon again, finally returned to the real world. What's going on? He thought as the eerie, powder blue clouds wavered slowly past the beaming moon.

PoVS

The cool night seemed still, the dark moon gleaming with a silent battle cry that was like a constant beat to Lance's ears. He grinned lightly and watched the Senchi rattle before him. Rick continued to stand still and protectively, his arms in front of him, ready to do anything. Those snakes, what's with them? Lance thought grudgingly as he felt his lungs begin to fail slowly.

Before, when they were chasing Rick through the small forest left, they were so fast and so straightforward, but when they went after me, they just scramble to me like a million ropes, Lance thought as he imaged the scenes in his mind, Rick flipping expertly to dodge the serpents, the millions of snakes crashing into the metal net, hissing wildly and angrily. Also, with time running out and about thirty minutes or so until morning, neither Marissa nor me have enough time to live. With Rick being the only one who can use his Half Spirit to the fullest right now, I'd better not endanger him, either.

Lance continued to think as he watched the Senchi slither through the air, threatening the two Minors who stood still, waiting for the big blow. They still have that A1 poison that guy was talking about, and I don't really have much of a source for metal to defend us with, but even if the snakes still have that poison, shouldn't they run out? No, I can't conclude that. What if Otoshiana has an infinite source of it where he can always remake or restock it? It'd be too hard to try something with that piece of information. So far, I haven't made any real moves against him except that dumb trap, and even if I try to make it work another time, I wouldn't be able to create that kind of thing in the first place with the unavailability of metal.

Rick can repel and attract the metal snakes, but that must take a lot of energy to do that, and we can't waste the only healthy Minor we have left. We'll have to try something else. I'll need a way to finish this guy off quickly without wasting too much energy, but with the limits I have on, I'm not sure how to go about something like that.

Lance continued to think hard, biting his bottom lip for helpless support. Moments later in the cool, still night, an idea flashed in his mind. I've got it! Lance thought enthusiastically. "Rick, listen," the Metal Minor called to his friend. Rick turned and obeyed, listening carefully, nodding now and then as Lance whispered his plan.

From the other side of the barren field, the Senchi awaited their command as Otoshiana stared blankly at the two teenagers with his red, demonic eyes. "That whispering…" Otoshiana muttered robotically. "So… familiar…" his voice growled as he was again, pulled back into his memories.

_Years after the first sighting of the cryptex, young Otoshiana had become very interested in toys like that. Tricky toys that sparked imagination and cleverness. He liked testing his skills at solving problems, getting his hands on every little trick he could get, even the simplest puzzle. He even began to make his own, and not one day passed by where he had forgotten about the first cryptex his father had given him._

_"I got it!" young Otoshiana cried out as he held the cryptex up in the light. He brought it close to his face and grinned at it, wondering who might be the first to solve it. "I've finally made my own cryptex," he said with a sense of accomplishment. He felt proud of himself, and he knew that anyone who heard about his success would be too._

_Thunder roared outside angrily, as if holding a grudge against someone it didn't know. The clouds rolled and rain began to pour lightly in a slight drizzle. Ignoring all the bad weather, Otoshiana continued to cry out happily, but since he had stayed up all night again doing a puzzle, he fell asleep, his eyes closed dully on the desk suddenly._

_Hours later, Otoshiana woke up, finding himself in a pool of his own drool. He moaned wearily as he rubbed his eyes awake, finding the cryptex on the desk. As he came to, his senses tingled, the coolness beginning to affect him weakly of the dusty room. "Must've fallen asleep," he said, clearing his own, cloudy mind that had just woken. He took the cryptex in his hands lightly, feeling to four metal rings and the silver alloy metal. The desk light was the only light in the room, and spilled a faint light on the wooden desk. It was bare, and the rest of the room was not lit at all. The electric humming of it was annoying to hear to the ears, and the weary eyes blurred everything in sight._

_Otoshiana cried out as he realized what he was about to do before he fell asleep. "I better go get this to father," he muttered to himself as he climbed weakly off the chair, feeling the energy rejuvenate him and his limbs. He stretched for a while, holding the silver cryptex in one hand, feeling the cool air swim into his clothes and awaken him even further. He gave a long, silent yawn and began pacing through the wood-paved floor. The slight thumping of his footsteps was almost silent, and easily ignored._

_Going out the door, he heard a loud crash. Something like glass breaking. The sudden shattering filled his ears, and made the panic rise in Otoshiana's emotions. The dark hallway was dusty and dusk, the ends of it almost enveloped in eerie ebony. Otoshiana's first instinct was to rush to the shattering, and without taking one more thought, he did._

_Carrying the cryptex in one hand, he rushed through the wood halls, his footsteps heavy and stomping against the weak material. He almost tripped over his feet in panic as he rushed to turn the corner, almost crashing into the opposite wall. What was that noise? He thought to himself. And this feeling… he spoke to himself as he rushed past the halls, the blurry darkness still not clearing just yet. What's this feeling I have? Why does it make me so panicky? Something's not right. Something's definitely not right._

_Rushing past the next corner, he soon found himself in the room where the shattering had come from. The first room where you walk in from outside. He stared blankly as he stood at the doorway, his mouth dropped open in an empty space of horror. The door was wide open, letting in the rushing rain and the blasting light of the thunder. The storm's eerie cold rushed in like a dominating blanket of evil. Right before Otoshiana's very own eyes, his own father fell to the floor as two, tough looking men try to grab him by the arms._

_His father seemed to be in pain, and honestly, scared of the two men. He moaned and groaned in horror as they gripped his arms tightly, so tightly it seemed like it hurt. He began scrambling in their hold, not realizing that his son was watching him that very moment. "F-Father?" Otoshiana said quietly and innocently. The child found his eyes crinkled in sadness and wonder._

_At the sound of his son's voice, the father calmed down, staring straight ahead to find young Otoshiana and his curious, always piqued eyes. "What's going on…father?" Otoshiana asked, still confused about what was going on._

_Hearing his voice again, the father bowed his head, looking at the floor in shame. At both his sides, the men grunted in a rigorous way and held his two arms in a restraining way tightly. "Sorry kid," one of them muttered deeply. His voice was scary, and after his words, there seemed to be a huge flash of lightning entering the room._

_Glass was spread out all over the room and furniture was misplaced, toppled over and upside down. The whole room was a mess. "It was your dad's third strike," the other one muttered._

_"Third…strike?" young Otoshiana asked, still somewhat confused. At his words, the two men began to drag the weakened old man away, his feet dragging on the floor wearily as they entered the vigorous storm, leaving the door open behind them as they left._

_Still at the doorway with somewhat baffled eyes, Otoshiana wondered. "Father…what's going on?" he muttered to himself slightly. The coldness seemed to continue to pour in, the numbing, icy mist filling the room with its damp wetness._

_Days later, Otoshiana found himself bound by a fence with his father on the other side after hearing all about what happened. His mother had been equally shocked at what was going on, and now, they were ready to say goodbye. The storm hadn't seemed to stop in the time between when they took him away, and…now. _

_Otoshiana found himself pounding hard on the metal fence, feeling imprisoned even though he was the one outside of the gate. Crowds and crowds of people piled themselves in front of the gate, their awaiting eyes watching carefully. Lightning flashed above evilly like an evil cry as the rain continued to come down. Groups of people seemed to come together with gray and green umbrellas for the sad occasion, even if they didn't know the person trapped inside the large, fenced area._

_After the trapping fences, far away from Otoshiana was his father, looking weak and sad in the pouring rain. He was bound at his wrists and head by a wooden slab attached to a large, towering guillotine. It was so tall that it was like a huge monument of sadness. The blade was carefully placed at the top, glimmering in the nonexistent light of the storm. Thunder continued to roar as Otoshiana desperately banged on the fencing._

_It hurt his hand so much, and he knew that his skin would soon rip and blister, but he didn't care. Tears came down his face along with the wet raindrops as he tried hard to keep his eyes open. Otoshiana cried out in despair as his wet hair dragged at his shoulders. The rattling of the fence never seemed to stop, and he seemed as if he was the only sad one there. Surrounded by tons of people he, at the moment, ignored, Otoshiana continued shaking the fence, the restraint of the rattling never ending. His mother hadn't wanted to come. She was to devastated by the news. But like any good son would do who cared about his father as much as he had cared for him, Otoshiana came alone._

_Holding the four letter cryptex in his trembling hand, Otoshiana continued to bang on the metal fencing. It was so imprisoning, even if he was outside. "Father!" Otoshiana desperately cried out. "Father, please! Father!"_

_"How sad," whispering was heard in the drowning rain. The splattering drops of the storm seemed to enhance every other sound made. "A young child like that, and his father is a murderer," the whispering voice came again._

_"Yeah, it's sad," another whispering voice replied. Otoshiana wanted to turn back to yell at them, to yell at them for being so disrespectful, but he couldn't. He couldn't take his eyes off of what was about to happen._

_"I heard he was given three chances before he was given the death sentence. He tried really hard to keep the murders a secret from his family," a different whisper came from another direction now. Otoshiana listened carefully, his tears sobbing like rivers with the rain, his hair dark and soggy, sopping at the back of his neck and the sides of his head. He had stopped trembling all over, and now he just wanted to cry. He had come to the area without many clothes, just a t-shirt and shorts. He was so cloud-minded and so much in a hurry he forgot the essentials. But right now, the essentials didn't seem the least bit important._

_"Yeah," another whispering voice came. "But why do you think he let himself get caught like that?"_

_"I don't know. Maybe he just didn't care anymore," the whispers answered._

_Didn't care anymore? Otoshiana thought as he clutched the fencing with his weak, bare hands. The pouring rain shuffled in his ears, drowning nothing out but his thoughts. I see… he didn't care anymore. Is it… is it because of me? Otoshiana accused himself. Was I not good enough for father? Was I not a good enough son to make him want to stay? To make him not want to get caught? Father was a smart man. He would've thought of something to escape. It's me. I didn't make him proud enough to stay, so he didn't care if he got caught. It's my fault. If only I had a second chance…_

_As Otoshiana finished his thoughts, gasps of people around him emerged as the glimmering blade of the guillotine came down, screeching like a devil's cry, until there was no screech left to be heard, ending it with a loud boom and a crash. Otoshiana couldn't bear to look. He kept his eyes on the ground. The wet, soaked ground with tears and rain. The smell of dampness never left him. He let his grip leave the cryptex as it fell to the floor, the rain soaking it with its demonic drops of angelic sadness. The metal cylinder clattered to the floor, spelling out its message to the sky, as if one full of hope, something Otoshiana left behind. The four lettered message spelled out in the pouring rain, "best" as the rain soaked the letters, washing the message away._

_What can I do to make father proud… Otoshiana thought. What can I do to make him proud now that he's dead? What would a father want from a useless child like me? Succeed in life? Do well in school? Follow his footsteps? Yeah, that makes sense, Otoshiana realized. Follow his footsteps… it makes sense. Then that's what I'll do, Otoshiana thought, concluding his sadness away into confidence. I'll follow your footsteps…!_


	57. Chapter 57

Let's go, father, Otoshiana thought, his never-blinking eyes seeming to stare blankly into space. The night had become bleak, the coldness into brisk. Trees began to sway lightly, and a more sense of comfort seemed to spread throughout the air, as if indicating morning was to arrive shortly.

The Senchi hissed evilly, as if cursing the arrival of sunlight. "Okay, got it?" Lance said thinly. His breathing had not expanded at the least. Rick nodded his head confidently and turned to face their opponent. Ruby red eyes filled with deviance gazed back at them. The Senchi began to clatter robotically, itching for a fight.

Rick fixed his stance, his feet spread out. He tightly clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes as the yellow brazen energy began to pour from him, becoming visible within seconds. It soon surrounded him entirely, waves of it wandering off then curving to return like boomerangs. The immense power filled the air with thickness. The intensity fluttered Rick's hair at the front, wavering it like it was playing piano. "Let's go!" Rick shouted angrily, shifting his feet.

"Don't talk so mighty, boy!" Otoshiana demanded. At the sound of his silent command, the Senchi began to rattle wildly, as if picking out their target. The soon found themselves shuffling through the air like wild dogs, mouths wide open in a never satisfied hunger. Blades protruded from their throats like horns full of life threatening poison, their metallic blue skin glimmering in the setting moonlight.

"Now, Rick!" Lance cried out. With a burst of energy, Rick took off, running right into the millions of snakes that rushed for him. With the Half Spirit's energy wrapped around him like a blanket full of protection, he rushed forward, his steps cracking the floor with their immense power. Electricity seemed to spark from his body as he ran faster and faster, rushing past the cool, setting night air. The Senchi raced faster and faster as well in anticipation.

Rick cried out as he ducked under the wave of infinite snakes, their shadows falling upon him as Lance stood back, watching as the poison took over all of his body. The Senchi shot through the air like terns, and crashed down on the dirt floor like cannonballs, letting out a loud, screeching noise that was discordant to Lance's ears. "Rick!" Lance whispered, his voice so weak that it was now a tiny whisper. His wincing eyes filled with worry, his teeth grit beneath his closed lips.

From Otoshiana's eyes, the wave of Senchi before him seemed to remain still and silent, filling the air with thick suspense. He stared hard at the metallic blue for a moment, waiting for a reaction. He couldn't see anything pas them, not even Lance, but he knew for sure that the blonde had jumped under the attack right before they crashed down like diving bombs. As tension began to mix with the suspense in the air, Lance swallowed hard. Could he really be…? the Minor thought.

"It's over," Otoshiana concluded with his monotone voice. As if on cue to the opponent's voice, screeching light began to filter from the space between the limp snakes that lay on top of each other. A slight electric humming began to take place, and filled the rising morning with its electric blue rays. "What…?" Otoshiana muttered solemnly to himself.

The sparking blue seemed to creep closer and closer to Otoshiana until finally, bursting from the wave of metal with a brave cry, arose Rick with the aura of yellow, gleaming energy gone, but with a hand that glowed with an ominous light. Yellow electricity sparked at the palm of his hand, pulled back at Rick's side as he jumped through the air. Time seemed to freeze at that moment, everything going in slow motion, even the sounds.

The slow fizzing of electricity filled the slumping air, Rick's body like a snail flying through the air. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, time seemed to rush back to normal again, Rick's cry coming out in a normal pace as he crashed his palm into Otoshiana's chest, the electricity overwhelming the robotic armor.

As the electricity hummed between the two people, the suspense was finally released, hints of it still lingering in the air, yet the tension still rising, burning like a wildfire flame. Bright yellow light spilled onto Rick and Otoshiana's faces, both of them holding different expressions. On one side was the confident, smirking grin, and on the other, a surprised, widened stare. "Funny," Rick muttered as the electricity filled Otoshiana's body. "You said I'd be the last to die," Rick referred to the past. "But, even if that's true, you're the one that's going to die first!" he finished his words with a burst of electric energy, pushing Otoshiana halfway across the barren field, his feet dragging in resistance on the floor, releasing dust into the awaiting air.

"Impossible!" Otoshiana cried out. "How? He should've been crushed!" he demanded angrily as his sliding across the field stopped, half-visible clouds of dust filling the air. Electricity still sparked at his blue, robotic chest as his voice hummed out in an unstable tone. His scarlet eyes of deviancy were still frozen in a state of shock and horror.

With the Senchi dragging in front of him, the weak snakes seeming to resist moving, Lance cleared his throat, calling attention that was soon given to him. "I'll explain everything when this plan is all over," he promised. "But for now, there's still one more part you need to notice."

"What?" Otoshiana asked, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, angered.

"Take a closer look," Lance insisted. Otoshiana obeyed, his red eyes still wide with shock, but still able to peer right to left, and up and down. As soon as he realized what was going on, he took a big gulp of nervousness mixed with even further confusion. In the air, he spotted tiny little beads floating freely in suspension. They were held above his head, swimming like little clouds that were barely visible to the naked eye.

The beads danced like fairies, but were as deadly as a crazed bomb. The tiny little spheres of metal began to release wires from them, the thin strings floating out and connecting to the ground for support, the millions of wires trapping Otoshiana's body parts in a hateful hold. Now, he was prohibited from the use of his own body.

"But – but how?!" Otoshiana stammered in anger. "I melted all your metal long ago in the battle! How could you have more to use?!"

"Simple," Lance said weakly. "I told you before, didn't I?"

"What are you talking about? Just spill it, brat!" Otoshiana said monotonously.

"Didn't I tell you before that I don't like to waste things, unless it's completely necessary?" Lance said cleverly, still confusing the opponent. Otoshiana instantly remembered. But he still was confused.

"But what was there to let waste?" Otoshiana spoke, calmer this time.

Lance sighed. "You lost complete sight of it, and yet it was closest to you all this time," Lance explained. "Look what your first Senchi snake is wrapped around."

Otoshiana followed, and saw that the very first snake that gave birth to the other snakes was still wrapped around that metal bar Lance had spit out in the beginning of the battle. "No way!" Otoshiana cried out. "How could I miss something like that?" he blamed himself. The metal bar seemed instantaneously thinner, most of it still left like a motionless pillar ready to be used.

"Looks like you've got it," Lance said, continuing on. "After I completed making beads out of that metal, Rick rushed through your wave of Senchi while wrapping his body around the energy of the Lightning Half spirit, giving him a repelling magnetic force to the blue metal of your Senchi. Doing that, he was able to bypass your defensive snakes easily, and push you with a strong electric jolt to where I placed the beads."

"I see," Otoshiana muttered to himself. "You were smarter than me…" he said full of shame.

"Now, you tell me one thing," Lance requested. "Why did I need you to be so far away from us so that I could activate my trap on you?" Otoshiana gave a blank stare. "Think about it," Lance commanded as Rick began running through the barren field towards Otoshiana, tightening his fist with a knowing smirk.

"You brag way too much," Rick told Lance as he rushed through the brisk air.

"You're a smart guy," Lance complimented, ignoring Rick's comment. "When I spit that metal out, it was made of silver, and give me one characteristic of silver that surpasses every other metal in the world," the Metal Minor requested.

"No way," Otoshiana said with an even wider stare, if possible. "It… it's the best conductor of electricity…" he spoke blankly, the wires holding him like an invisible prison.

"Yeah," Rick muttered to him as he inched closer with each and every step. Charging for the armored enemy, electricity began to emit from both Rick's hands, the sparks flying crazily as the glow was blinding. Clapping his hands together to charge them even better, Rick stood before the imprisoned opponent, filling the rising morning with suspense. Even if sunlight had not begun to rise, everyone knew it was soon coming. "Now, it's over," Rick declared as he put out both his hands, the electricity beginning to crawl through the wires, then taking them over completely, the intense power sparking with a vicious cry of pain.

With the shaking of the lightning that continually ran through the wires like a never ending murder, Otoshiana cried out in pain, the horrifying, despairing cry filling the air and breaking the suspense. His screams were drowned out by the electric humming, yet so loud in everyone's ears.

When the sparks calmed and the electricity was worn out, white smoke hissed from the wires, rising to the air, ending the fight. Otoshiana stared at the floor, his body limp and his armor cracked at every single place you could think of like an egg. The wires continued to hold him from the floor, preventing his actual downfall. Why? He thought. If… if it was my purpose in life to make father proud… then why? Why did I lose? He thought in a growing sadness opening in his heart as pieces of the glimmering blue armor cracked and moved ominously, specks of it falling off. Why didn't life let me make father proud…? I owed him… he didn't care enough to stay… I was a horrible son. I followed his footsteps, but somehow, I still lost.

Thoughts rushed through his mind as the metallic armor fell apart, revealing skin and clothes, and his actual, depressed face. As the blue, metal mask fell off with its red, demonic eyes, specks of metal still clung to Otoshiana's human face, his blue eyes filled with sadness and his same old hairstyle swaying in the light breeze. Tears stroke down his cheeks, the hotness and wetness so familiar, even if it had been years since he had cried. Why father? Why did you leave? Did you not want me to follow your footsteps? Why?! The sadness was overwhelming and overtook Otoshiana's mind like a brainwash. Tears made a new mask for him, a mask of realization.

Suddenly, Otoshiana had a flashback, a flashback from far back then when he had just become interested in the clever games and tricky toys.

_"Oto-chan," his father called to him across the room. The wooden walls were shiny and bright, light bouncing off them like crazy elastics. His father carried that same, comforting smile as he peered to the small child who lay on the floor who was fingering through his first puzzle that gave him so much trouble, yet he was confident to solve it._

_"What is it, father?" Otoshiana asked, peering to his side as he lay comfortably and happily on his stomach, finding that old, crinkled smile that filled him with so much warmth._

_"Let me ask you something," he insisted, sitting in his comfortable wooden chair, his voice croaky like a frog's as always. But that was the voice Otoshiana had always loved to hear. And it would've remained that way, forever and ever. "For what purpose do you carry to become so interested in these puzzles and games, and to begin studying engineering just so you can build these toys?"_

_"Well," young Otoshiana said, taking his finger and putting it on his lips. His eyes looked up to the ceiling, as if searching for the answer. In one hand, he weakly held the scrambled puzzle, his brown eyes filled with innocence. Otoshiana got up on his feet, and tugged on his clothes, straightening them out as he took a deep breath. As soon as he let out his exhale, he gave a friendly, childish smile. "I guess I want to study engineering in the future to build technology so I can help people, and make more peace for the world, instead of pain," Otoshiana replied proudly, bringing a weakly closed fist to his heart, giving an oath. He crinkled his eyes and smiled widely, taking pride in what he believed in._

_"I see," the father answered. His son's words made him smile like they always did. The curved smirk that always seemed to set things straight seemed to be more filled with warmth than ever, so comforting and loving, it was like a blanket that kept you warm on the coldest winter day. "That's my son," he spoke in that same old, croaky voice that Otoshiana would remember for the rest of his life._

"I see," Otoshiana muttered to himself in his regular voice that seemed so different to the Minors' ears. They stared at him hard, making sure that he remained the way he was. Hanging limply from the supporting wires, Otoshiana began to feel the sadness mix with an even more intense guilt. "Sorry, father," he spoke lightly. "I mistook my meaning of life for someone else's idea for it." The Minors stared solemnly. They didn't know what happened in Otoshiana's life, but they knew it was a time to be sorrowful, even if it was their opponent.

As the armor continued to clink to the floor, the tears came down faster like a stream of regret. It wasn't following your footsteps that would make you proud, isn't that right, father? Otoshiana thought silently minutes before his death, staring up to the sky with those innocent, cheery eyes from his childhood. The clouds seemed to float lazily through the sky, each one carrying a message from someone else who was filled with regret at the moment. The brown innocence of Otoshiana's eyes returned, and a curved smirk that set everything straight of his own began to grow on his lips. It was to make the world a better place that would've made you proud, Otoshiana realized. More metal clattered to the floor. Sorry, father, Otoshiana wished among the clouds. I'll make it up to you the only way I can right now…

Suddenly Otoshiana felt the energy come back to his legs as the metal armor fell apart completely, and he took his hands and softly touched the wires, breaking them apart to make way for his feet. He hid his eyes by staring down, and the Minors began to take caution, shifting their feet.

"What should we do?" Rick asked Lance, standing before the slowly freeing Otoshiana, readying his stance and narrowing his eyes. Lance said nothing.

As the wires continued to snap with the soft touch of Otoshiana's fingers, he stepped out unsteadily, his steps powerful yet weak, filled with meaning, just like they were when they stepped across that wooden paved floor of his childhood house. His footsteps stammering, he neared closer to Rick. The Lightning Minor got ready to strike. "No," Otoshiana muttered solemnly in a more human voice, taking away the readied stance of Rick and changing it into a more realized one.

Otoshiana's footsteps shuffled against the dirt ground, his bare feet stepping weakly. He tried many times to keep himself from falling, tire marks spread all over his body. "I can't continue this fight," Otoshiana confessed as he walked towards Lance, who took a big nervous gulp. "I'm…" his voice choked. "Father," he ignored. "Let me make it up to you now, and make you at least… a little proud," he said, reaching for his pants pocket and taking out a thin, tiny test tube that glimmered lightly in the soon, rising sun. Otoshiana continued to step in variation towards Lance, his eyes still hard on the floor, his back slouched weakly, and his arms dragging across the floor with the test tube in his fingers' weak grip.

As Lance tried to keep his eyes on Otoshiana, he couldn't help but collapse to his knees as pain began to overtake his body and cough out a splotch of blood vigorously. He brought an arm to his mouth weakly and brushed away leftover blood. His eyes shaking as he tried to keep them on the stammering Otoshiana who seemed to completely change in a matter of seconds, he tried to get up, to be respectful, but his legs wouldn't seem to move, and he was even lucky that he could still talk with the pain that began to spread to his vital organs – his stomach, his heart, his lungs, everywhere.

Finally inches away from the Metal Minor, Otoshiana stopped pacing and stood solemnly in front of the teenage boy, who looked up with wondering eyes as to what Otoshiana did. "What… what do you want?" Lance asked quietly.

"I…" Otoshiana began. "I lied when I said there wasn't a cure for my poison," he confessed, his voice friendlier now. "H-Here," he spoke, bringing his arm up with the test tube and placing it in Lance's weak, shaking hands. Lance looked up at Otoshiana and found the trust in his eyes, and the regret in his tears. "S-Sorry," he stammered finally. No good, Otoshiana thought to himself. I can't keep this up. Calculating from the immense electrical torture I had to go through and the pressure of the electricity on my nerve system, I can't move for much longer. At this rate… I'll…

He sadly couldn't finish his thought as he collapsed to the floor, making the last, loud thump on any surface, whether it's the wooden floor of the past, the dirt caked floor of the present, or the underground moist of the future. His body lay still, his brown hair falling upon his face and his last tears he would ever shed.

Lance stared at the body as he thought hard whether or not all this was real. As he began to feel the sun rise, he gave a solemn nod to Otoshiana, as if thanking him. At a certain tree, the large metal hand still on top of the Sound Minor, it began to lose its grip, falling weakly to the floor as Marissa did the same. Her brown-blonde hair fell on top of her face limply as an arm lay by her face, her weak, and still unconscious body silently laying on the floor.

With some regret and guilt, Rick stared hard at the floor, and then to Lance. They traded looks, though they were the same.

Now, stuffing the glass container filled with the green liquid into his pocket, Lance rushed to Otoshiana's side, and began to pick him up, taking him away to a better place to rest.


	58. Chapter 58

The cold night became brisk all of a sudden in the foresting trees as Derek stared hard at the arrival of a new opponent. His dark eyes were piercing against her seductive ones. Her clapping had stopped and now, her hands lay limp at her sides.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Derek asked, remaining cautious of whatever her abilities may be.

She scoffed. "That's a new question," she piqued. "You must not be from around these parts. No matter. It just means you'll go down even faster," she stated, flashing an evil grin as her fingers moved creepily at her side, her wrist cracking with the sound of glass.

Her… her hand? Derek thought as she looked at the creepiness of its motion. He swallowed hard to keep down his nervousness that he never seemed to show. "Answer my question," he demanded, hiding his emotion. "Who are you?" Derek narrowed his eyes.

"Does that even matter?" she laughed at Derek. With a sudden motion, she swung her arm across the distance between them, her limb shooting out surprisingly an arsenal of glass shards that darted through the air like ninja stars.

At the sudden attack, Derek ducked down and fell on his back. What the – he cut off his thought as he fell through the floor, falling into the Darkness.

Coming back to the real world, Derek emerged from the bark of a tree, panting lowly just in case his enemy heard him. He took short breaths, keeping his senses active. That could've been dangerous, he thought tiredly. He peered to his side as his the trunk of the tree gave his back support. The coolness touched his skin barely as his chest continued to rise and fall as breaths came in and out. In the corner of his eyes, Derek spotted the glass shards that had posed a threat to him, stabbed into a tree, glimmering in the faint moonlight as if giving a threatening glare. Derek gulped, and then resumed his silent breathing.

"You can't run away, kid," the woman said with an evil smirk, her voice loud and demonic. Her arm began to crack with the sound of breaking glass again. "My glass is specially made by me and my body, and is denser than steel yet harder than diamond," she informed to scare the jitters out of her opponent, yet failing.

I see, Derek realized, thinking hard. So by firing her glass at a constant rate with glass shards, she forces the opponent to run from her attacks as they trail behind them, forcing to wear them out. She must tell everyone that they're denser than steel and harder than diamond so they are aware of the current situation they could be put in, whether it is true or not. A tricky strategy to realize she's using, but all her efforts are pointless if the enemy has a good defense, even if they have the characteristics she just stated.

Suddenly, without Derek noticing, glass restrainers emerged from the tree Derek had his back on as he continued to think. They glimmered in the dying moonlight and took caution before they wrapped around him, keeping a tight hold on him. When they finally struck, Derek was left surprised, letting out a shocked cry. Remaining somewhat calm, Derek didn't seem to resist the hold of the restrainers and just waited. Where'd these come from? he asked himself as he moved uneasily in the glass hold, gritting his teeth.

On cue to his thoughts, a figure began to rise from the ground in front of him in the form of powder that molded itself into a person. The same woman from before. Regeneration from the ground? Derek figured, his eyes wide with shock to what his opponent could do. She continued to grow like a fungus on the dirt ground as the rest of her body began to stretch out, molding into a normal figure.

"I told you," the woman growled, as the last bit of her body was risen from the ground. "You can't run away!" she reminded Derek as a long, glass shard began to protrude from the palm of her hand, ready for use at any moment.

Damn it! Derek thought to himself. This is getting bad, he thought, beginning to sink back into the bark of the tree, feeling the surface beneath him turn to zilch. With a deadly attempt, the opponent took the glass shard and tried hard to stab Derek through the heart, but missed as he sunk back to the Darkness dimension, his handy escape at all times. Her shard ended up striking the bark of the tree that seemed to clamp on the glass dagger in a grudge. "Shitty brat!" she growled.

Like a wave of evil, blackness crept from the corners of the shadows and sunk away the dirt ground in a sea of ebony, washing against the confused opponent. "What is this?!" she cried angrily, her only emotion.

A hand began to rise from the blackness sea, sneaking upward without the victim noticing, the hand creepy-looking if you didn't realize what it was immediately. "Ankoku Jutsu –Darkness Technique-" Derek muttered to himself silently, his voice only heard in his own ears. "Yoku no Zaigou, -Sinful Greed-" Derek's voice rang in his own ears as the hand tightly gripped his opponent around the ankle, the feeling sudden to the complaining woman. The hand had a soft touch to it at first, but then had a rigorous tug that would've surprised anyone with its sudden, immense force, dragging the victim downward into the ground and into the Darkness, the familiar interface world between the world and hell.

The woman cried out as she felt herself lose sight and feeling of her body parts from the bottom up, being drowned in the deviance of darkness.

As she found herself blinded and lost in the empty, spacious darkness, she desperately looked around, trying to find something she could see – anything. "Now you're in my technique," Derek's voice whispered in her ear suddenly and creepily.

"W-Where am I?" the complaint demanded, looking around frantically, as if searching for something.

"The Darkness. It's the interface between earth and hell, and your abilities are powerless here," Derek's voice informed. "Now, tell me," he demanded solemnly, his voice deep and creepy like Hibiyomi's. "How do I get my friends out of your illusion?"

The woman scoffed. "It's hopeless!" she cried out with a happy grin filled with deviancy. "Even I can't drag them out at this point. They've probably gone psychotic by themselves by now!" she yelled out in anticipation, happy to inform Derek of what could've happened.

Damn this woman, Derek thought to himself, gritting his teeth tightly. If that's true, then… I'll die easily without their help. There has to be a way to get them out! Even the strongest technique has to have a weakness! "Where the hell are you, kid?!" the unconcerned foe demanded. "Come out so I can tear you to bits and pieces!"

"Give it up," Derek muttered loudly. "Your powers are useless here," he reminded. "There's no use in trying to attack me as long as we're in here."

"Oh? Is that so? Interesting," she muttered to herself. That evil grin on her face never seemed to wear off. The sound of blaring trains soon filled the pitch blackness, the roaring sounds emerging from different directions like a blasting noise that filled the two people's ears.

"Yeah," Derek repeated. "Now spill the secret of your technique so I can get my friends back!" the desperate Minor demanded. The anger in his voice masked his desperation. He always seemed to find a way to look tough all the time, even if he was feeling some very non-tough feelings.

"Ha!" the woman laughed in the teenage boy's face. "It's doubtful you'll get them back," she said loudly, making sure the Minor heard her. "Many have been trapped in my technique for years and still haven't come out. What makes you think your friends are any different?"

Damn it, Derek thought to himself, cursing his luck out silently. "As for my 'powers' being unavailable here…" the woman muttered, his voice seeming to calm, yet not so much. From Derek's watching eyes, the woman seemed to stare hard at him, directly at him as if to say "I've got you now." But that was impossible. She couldn't see him, could she? Or sense him. So why was she staring at him like that?

Suddenly, she swung her arm across the darkness, forming it into a glass limb that had glass shards protruding from the arm like shark fins gliding easily through the water. Her fingers had become large, deadly glass shards that were as long as a trunk of a tree. The palm of the glass hand trapped Derek in its hold. "Got you now, don't I?" she asked in amusement.

"What?" Derek cried out. Impossible! he thought to himself. Slowly, the Darkness's ebony began to fade away, slightly at first, but then the shivering became so intense that it was inevitable what was going to happen next. Feeling the hard, cool glass against his body, Derek tried hard to move, but his body didn't seem to react. As the darkness faded away, they were slowly taken back into the Outer World, and the coolness of the dying night was felt again, along with the damp, towering trees that filled Derek's eyes. "What the hell is going on? Your powers should have been sealed as soon as we entered the Darkness!" Derek complained.

"Kid, these aren't my 'powers'! My glass abilities are my body, and my body is my glass abilities!" she stated, making something clear. "You can walk and talk and touch in the Darkness, can't you? Well, using my glass powers are the same thing as walking and talking for an ordinary person!" Her words seemed to add pressure to the grip she had on Derek, making him groan in a short pain.

"Is that so?" Derek grunted, trying hard to speak, his voice filtering through the sharp, threatening glass blades she now called fingers. The heavy glass was cold against Derek's hot skin. She was right. It was harder than diamond, Derek thought. I can't even crack it.

"Yeah," the opponent muttered quietly. "Now, suffer and die!" she declared, adding immense pressure to the palm of her glass limb.

Derek felt the glass come down harder on his chest, and was suddenly reminded of the time when he had the first encounter with Eruption and his crashing, burning fist that broke off two of his ribs. Now, Derek was getting that same feeling all over again. He tried hard to make a noise under the imprisoning, icy glass. His hands were at the surface of the hard material, trying hard to push it back up but failing every effort. With an effort he didn't want to make, Derek sunk back into the ground, running back into his infinite escape.

"How many times are you going to run away, shitty rat?" the foe made a complaint, her only way of speaking. Her voice was angry that she couldn't continue her fun as she drew back her glass limb and molded it back to the normal, human looking kind.

Rising from the body of a nearby tree, Derek landed on a tree's branch with a grunt. The barely supporting limb of the tree made tiny efforts to make him comfortable. Splinters seemed to come from everywhere. This is getting dangerous, Derek thought as he tried hard to conceal himself. Not even the darkness can restrain her. Without much info on her abilities and without my teammates, I'm a sitting duck! Damn it!

PoVS

Dylan ran through the unfamiliar, orange grounds, running away from what he had just seen. "What's the matter?" a booming voice seemed to follow him in the photographic world. "Running away from your problems again? Kindness won't help you now, brat!" the godly voice boomed.

Dylan continued to run frantically across the dirt field, almost tripping on his feet in his panic. He breathed hard as he made sure he didn't even take a peek back, afraid of what he might see. His unsteady, heavy breathing seemed to weigh two tons as perspiration rolled down his face like tears of an angel from his pure, snowy hair. His eyes were folded in racing panic and his heart rate seemed to jump off the charts, banging on his ribcage as if protesting its bony prison.

Ahead, rushing past the frozen shrubs and trees, Dylan saw Zack, bound together by millions of chains, half his body sunk into an orange lake with constant ripples that seemed to come from Zack's waist. He cried out angrily as he tried to break free from the binding chains, hating to be locked up. Dylan was thankful to find his teammate so close by.

"Zack! Zack, are you all right?" Dylan cried out, his voice bare to his own ears. Fortunately, Zack heard him. He flashed a blank look at him, as if trying to figure out who he was.

"Dylan-san?" he muttered more calmly now. Then, the thought suddenly flashed in his mind. "Do you think I'm all right!?" he shouted comically, his face growing ten times as large, his eyes rounded humorously with his mouth curving into a square, giving a literal definition to chatter box.

"Calm down, calm down, just asking," Dylan apologized, waving his hand in the air in a nervous, tedious way, an anxious smile growing on his face.

"You can't run away!" the booming voice came back again. Dylan turned, and with a blank, widened stare, he cried out in despair, his screams echoing off the solemn, monument-like trees that forever remained shot in time.

PoVS

Derek thought hard as he kept his eyes peeled for anything strange in the brisk night of the real world. He was thankful he was back, but he had to keep his mind off of such matters if he wanted to get his teammates back. He couldn't think to imagine the kind of trouble he would be put through if he let two of the Minors die.

There has to be a part of her that controls the technique they're still stuck in, Derek figured, gritting his teeth as confusion filled his thoughts with stormy clouds that thundered violently. Her mind? No. She's focusing on the battle, isn't she? She can't multitask with the mind. Then what?

Suddenly, a rumbling came to from below the ground, and quakes began shaking the trees violently, their heads rustling, as if shaking their heads, saying a solemn no. The ground continued to quake rigorously, and the sound of cracking glass emerged what seemed to be millions of glass shards protruding from the ground like towering statues. They crept up towards Derek's tree branch, and he was forced to jump off before he was cut in half by a pillaring shard.

He soon found himself engaged in a forest of glass and plant life, and looked around nervously as he thought carefully. Did she find my whereabouts? No, it was just a random, wide-range attack that she used to look for me. Thank god. He peered around him continuously and found nothing but broken trees and glass pillars. He noticed something strange and looked hard at the almost transparent glass, and found something that piqued his interest. On the surface of the glass was brown sand that seemed to dissolve into the air slowly, disappearing into nothing but glass. Sand…? Derek thought to himself.

On cue to Derek's thoughts, his foe rushed out of the canopies of the skyscraping trees and cried out to surprise him. "I found you!" she called out with a smirk that revealed all her current emotion. She held her glassy limb in her arsenal as she crashed down, colliding with Derek and sending a towering cloud of dust into the air as a sickening clattering was heard and spread throughout the forest grounds.

"Damn it, you're one troublesome woman," Derek muttered as the dust clouds cleared and revealed the final happening. The woman was seconds away from crashing into Derek when he had stopped her suddenly with his own kind of limb, the Shadow Limb. "You never get off my back, do you?" Derek muttered as he held her in place in the air. "Now release my teammates!" he demanded.

She scowled. "Shut up and stop worrying about your worthless friends!" she cried out as she sent her glass arm diving through the air, crashing into the ground as Derek jumped away at the last second, releasing the Shadow Limb's hold. His foe crashed into the grand with a clatter as more dust was sent flying through the air.

As the last wisps of dust were clearing, she became barely visible again and sent another whipping, stretching glass arm through the air, the glass shards glimmering slightly in the failing moonlight that was soon about to set. The limb rushed across the air like a thick, growing snake as Derek jumped to his side to dodge the crashing arm. "Damn it, you never give up!" Derek cried out, the constant glass attacks infuriating. The sound of cracking glass is about to become infuriating to me, Derek realized as he narrowed his stare, watching his opponent draw back her human arm.

Sensing that she was about to do it again, Derek sent his own arm through the air and sent her flying through the forest, crashing against a nearby tree. The shattering of glass filled his ears with an ironic, pleasant noise that was like music to Derek's ears. The breaking glass fell to the floor in a helpless pile as Derek drew back the Shadow Arm and molded it back to his human arm. Derek waited in silence.

An eerie rustling of trees brushed by as the light breezes ran past, filtering into a hundred little ones through the dividing branches of the pillaring towers of trees. Derek swallowed in suspense and nervousness.

Suddenly, the pile of glass began to clink together. The shards were like toasting to each other for a sign of victory. The clinks made Derek even more nervous as they began to shuffle into the air, like someone had picked them up with invisible hands that manipulated everything and everyone in the world. The glass shards began to pour into each other, clinking as they piled on top of one another in two separate piles, one bigger than the other in the air. They look like they're rebuilding her… Derek noticed.

And he was right. Soon, the glass shards began expanding and color began to paint ominously across them. Moments later, with the sound of cracking glass, his opponent was back to normal, unharmed and unscratched, laughing in his face at his dire efforts to do some damage to her.

I can't believe it… Derek thought with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, his fists clenching grudgingly. She… she rebuilt herself!


	59. Chapter 59

At a certain part of the Swamp of Mystery, even if morning was soon to come, one area was still as dark as midnight. Daniel crawled out of the cold, uncomfortable wooden tent and found himself in the midst of a cool, invisible mist and towering trees. He picked up his glasses, making sure they didn't fall. The moon had hid itself, and there was no mystifying orb of the sky now. Stars twinkled in the fabric of darkness, like little needles that poked holes into the darkness blanket.

Daniel sighed. He had a feeling that this week would be hard… really hard. Soon, his two teammates crawled out of their gross, wooden tents as well, feeling the cool air brush against their own dirt caked faces. Kenneth stretched and gave a loud yawn as his arms were hung high in the air. Teresa just looked uncomfortable, remaining silent as always. "Good, you guys weren't late," Daniel notified. "We can get a head start,"

"Remind me why we have to wake up before morning to move around again," Kenneth insisted, his eyes tired and heavy, half open with laziness spread all over his face. He didn't feel like waking up so early. They had only about four hours of sleep anyway. That was barely enough for someone who always expected to sleep a lot whenever they did fall asleep.

Daniel sighed. He didn't like repeating himself. Walking towards the foresting trees, he answered his brother's question. "We can't stay in one place too long, it'd be foolish to do so," he began, placing his hand over a tree's trunk and looking left and right, searching for any suspicion. It was a reluctant search, really. "We don't know if someone is following us, and we can't just lie around waiting for the enemy to attack. We have to give ourselves the upper hand, even if it isn't a good one."

"But what if we actually run into an enemy while we're moving?" Kenneth asked, his eyes now wide open with alert. His icy, blue eyes matched with his blank, empty expression. It seemed as if he hadn't a thought at all.

"That's a chance we're going to have to take," Daniel sighed, glaring hard into the darkness before them. "We should get closer to the gate, so we'll head that way," the Life Minor said, pointing into the bleak darkness ahead. Kenneth gulped at its ominous appearance. "Once we get there, we're going to have to make new camps. You don't mind, right, Teresa?" he asked, turning back to face his vulnerable stare at the purple haired Minor.

Teresa looked up, her cheek caked with the brown, icky dirt. Her eyes were pleading, sad almost, like a child's innocent pupils. She seemed to disregard his words, and nodded slightly, her stare falling back to the mushy ground beneath her steady feet. Her eyes were full of thoughts Daniel wondered what they were.

The empty sky held no god at this time, seemingly empty of purpose now. The only active movement was the twinkling of stars and the light breezes every now and then that seemed would always come – but really, never came. "Let's go," Daniel said, turning back. With a jolt, he jumped to a nearby tree branch, and began taking off towards the darkness. His two teammates followed suit.

"So, did you plan out our meal plot for the rest of the week?" Kenneth asked his brother, catching up to him, feeling the cool, damp air brush against their faces.

"Yeah," Daniel said, rushing past branch from branch, the filtering air running through his clothes like curious little demons. "We've got twenty-thousand calories worth of food. I may have miscounted the first time, so I double checked. This amount of food is going to last us a full week."

Kenneth nodded his head, acknowledging his brother's words as he kept his eyes on his back. Daniel didn't turn to face his brother as he went on. He seemed to be the leader of the group, rushing ahead of everyone else. "A regular human diet consists of two thousand calories a day, but with three people to feed a day, a regular diet for us would be six thousand calories finished a day," Daniel went on. "With that in mind, if we did have three meals each day, we would only last about two more days with food. However, if we narrowed it down to fifteen hundred calories a day instead of two thousand for each of us, which would give us a total of forty-five hundred a day. Still not enough," Daniel explained thoroughly.

As he went on, Teresa seemed to stare off into space as she rushed by easily from branch to branch. The trees seemed to lay out her branches for her. Daniel's voice buzzed on, stopping to clear his voice, the only silence heard for a while. "With forty-five hundred a day, we would eat all our food in a matter of four days, which isn't so bad, considering we lasted one day all ready without food, we would have two days without food in the end, but it's still not enough," Daniel explained. "But, if we lowered our diet to a thousand a day, we would finish off three thousand a day, and that could last us about six more days without two hundred calories of food left over, and since we all ready lasted one day in here without food, we should be fine."

"Great!" Kenneth replied, smiling and clenching his fist in a victorious way.

"Not really," Daniel muttered. His brother's words washed the victorious look off his face. "With only eating a thousand a day for each of us, we're just cutting our regular human diet in half. That means one full meal, and a half of another. I don't know if we can really thrive on that for the whole week, but I suppose it's possible to accomplish," Daniel explained, still rushing past the darkness. The ebony seemed to brush backward as the team neared it, as if it were afraid of them, backing up into its own faraway, tiny little corner.

"I see," Kenneth muttered in acknowledgment. He seemed less enthusiastic now. Now, he just solemnly brushed by tree after tree, jumping like a frog from lily pad to lily pad on a pondering lake.

"Also, if the threat of a gluttonous enemy comes up and it gets to our food resources, I don't know what we'll do then. We'll most likely starve," Daniel explained, giving his brother a shock. Teresa just stared bleakly into space. She never seemed to listen to Daniel away.

"Hey," Daniel muttered, turning his attention to Teresa. She muttered quietly as she lifted her violet eyes, finding the fluttering back of Daniel's clothes. Her mouth was open unknowingly, a sort of shock overtaking her for a second. "What's with you?" he muttered. Teresa gulped, as if to ask, "What do you mean?"

The rushing trees seemed to pass by even quicker, like the scenery was running away from the team, afraid of them. Everything seemed to be afraid of them. They wouldn't be surprised if the world just split apart with them in the middle of the empty space. "Those eyes," Daniel said, turning his face back to meet glares with Teresa. His green stare was somewhat accusing. His red hair fluttered solemnly. "They're hiding something. I know," Daniel told her.

Teresa continued to remain silent, as if she were in shame. She just continued to watch Daniel's back, wondering what he was trying to get out at her. She didn't really want to deal with him right now. She wanted to keep herself to her thoughts, the sooner the better so she could rid herself of her life-long problems. "That guy, Eric…" Daniel said quietly.

Teresa's eyes went into a widened, shocked state. Now, she really disregarded her problems and really wanted to find out just what this guy was saying. She didn't know why she just suddenly changed at the mention of Eric's name. Didn't know at all. "You fit his description perfectly," Daniel noted. As if answering Teresa's thoughts, he began to explain. "One time, during the first part of training when you were really injured, and the rest of the Minors were waiting for my brother's fight to end, he came up to me, and asked me a question," Daniel piqued Teresa's interests.

What does he mean? Teresa thought carefully. Why is he telling me this? "It went something like this," Daniel spoke loudly.

_"Hey," Eric had come up to Daniel who sat solemnly in the barely comfortable sofa chair. He walked by dragging his feet, a kind of vibe to him that couldn't really be figured out._

_Daniel looked up to find brown eyes intertwining gazes with his red ones. He immediately caught his attention, somehow someway. Eric read the question in his eyes, the hard, protective stare always locked tightly in his friendly gazes. "A few people here have some sort of problem they're dealing with. A problem that holds them down from something. Their problem shows from the look they give in their eyes, and they might not know it, but it's obvious. You have that same exact look right now. So tell me, what's wrong."_

_At first, Daniel thought, what's with this guy? Why does he care so much about other people's problems? But that stare he gave him… it was just so inviting, so tempting. It was like he all ready wanted to tell him his problems. "Well," Daniel began, not sure if Eric would understand. He didn't even know why he was about to talk to a complete stranger. All he knew was his name. "I guess, I'm just worried about my brother's fight. He's taking the longest and… well, I don't know. I don't know what to think," Daniel spilled out._

_"I see, is that right?" Eric said friendlily. 'Don't worry," he insisted. "I'm sure your brother's doing fine," he reassured Daniel. Daniel didn't know what it was about him, but just the way he said it and the way it came from his voice – it was so reassuring, that, he actually believed everything was going to be all right, and all his worries just dissolved like salt in hot water. It was something so crazy, so magical._

"I don't know what it is about that guy, Eric, but he seems to have some kind of power," Daniel continued. "Call me crazy if you want, but, it's like he can erase all your problems just by talking to you long enough. He really is something, that guy," Daniel muttered to himself.

Is that so? Teresa thought. She was suddenly reminded of Eric and the talk she had with him.

_"So tell me," Eric had spoken so strongly. "If what you're saying is true, and that bonds just end up making you get hurt in the end, then let me ask you one thing."_

_Teresa had looked up to him and found his serious, yet friendly stare. A stare that wanted to help and protect. It was mind-blowing, in fact. She nodded slightly in her awe to indicate her thoughts. Eric continued. "Say two people have a connection. If they both realize that the other one is going to hurt the other one, and start believing what you're saying, then obviously both of them won't want it to happen, so both of them definitely won't willfully depart from the other one. If such a thing happens, then who's the one that gets hurt in the end?" Teresa widened her stare, a new, fresh thought flashing in the back of her mind, unnoticed, yet causing her expression blank._

"And you…" Daniel continued with his calm voice, still speaking to Teresa. Teresa looked up, more willful to acknowledge her teammate now. "You fit his description perfectly. Along with the fact that you haven't spoken a word since we got here." Teresa looked down in a sort of shame, watching the ground as the tree limbs rushed by, blocking her sight for seconds, the only thing reminding her that her legs were moving.

Kenneth looked confused yet solemn. Suddenly, there was a loud, humming noise. It seemed to near the group and came from behind like a buzzing hummingbird that rushed through the air. The same thoughts flashed in the teammates' minds as some sort of flying disk rushed past the trees, glowing with an ominous, mechanical red. The disk flew by and caught everyone by surprise, making a direct hit on Daniel, slicing through his back, slashing through his clothes.

"Brother!" Kenneth cried out, his eyes widening in shock. Teresa's face filled with panic. Daniel cried out in pain as the humming, glowing red disk protruded from his back and wisps of the fabric of his clothes flew through the air. The energy seemed to drain from him as he was about to fall to the floor, but suddenly, his appearance faded away into nothing but thin air. "What?" Kenneth cried out in confusion.

As the red disk flew back through the forest, the two teammates stopped in their position on two separate tree branches. The humming disk returned to another person's wrist. "Oh? Copy bait? Interesting," a female voice sounded.

"Who are you?" Daniel's voice returned, his appearance rushing out of the trees and coming back to the rest of the team. He used a clone made of his own life energy just in case an enemy made a sneak attack while we were heading through the darkness, Kenneth realized with a bleak face. A smile soon grew on him. That's brother, always thinking ahead.

"Your opponent!" a booming voice cried back. The female sound echoed through the trees, and seemed to rustle them in fear. Damn it… where is she? Daniel thought, gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes beneath those square glasses.

"Teresa," Daniel called out, turning to his side. Teresa muttered quietly in shock. Why was he calling her now? "I need you to spread a force field around the area to clear off the trees so we could see her better. Can you do that for me?" Daniel asked, his voice fast and panicky.

Teresa thought. If I don't, I'll probably end up dying myself as well, she figured. Fine, as you wish, she thought conclusively, her eyes turning a bright, demonic purple, many strands of her hair beginning to defy gravity, traced with an ominous purple color. Her teeth tightly grit, wavering force field energy began to surround her, and with a burst of energy and a cry of confident anger, the energy molded hard and began to spread out, just as angry as her cries of bravery were. The loud, crashing purple waves pushed back the trees and dirt, dust flying everywhere like a parade of power, trees being shoved away as if being towed. The bright purple energy glowed in the darkish night and consumed the three teammates, taking them away from their opponent's sight.

"What's this amazing energy she's giving off?" the opponent whispered to herself as diverging winds spread through the forest, violent gusts brushing her hair backward, her body trying hard to stay in place. She peered to the crazed power of the force field, her eyes narrowed to protect themselves. Her arm held in front of her face, she watched the blistering explosion of glowing violet push away all the forest life and dust, clearing a large, circular way in the middle.

As the dust finally began to clear away and the wisps of thick purple died out, the new threat peered hard into the piles of rising dust and found nothing but a wide, open area of dirt. Damn it! she cried to herself. They got away!

In the foresting trees surrounding the large area of empty space, the three teammates hid behind respective trees, watching their new opponent as she rushed out of the canopies and into the middle of the dirt area, looking around her to find any clue of their whereabouts. Damn it, Daniel thought. I didn't think an enemy would come by so quickly. I'll have to stay and observe her a while before I can do anything about her, though.

Kenneth watched his brother peer into the empty space before them, staring hard with those hard thinking eyes and that still, calm look. Ha, he laughed to himself in his head. Knowing my brother, he's probably thinking up some amazing plan by now, he thought with awe. You're amazing, brother.

Okay, got it, Daniel thought in his respective mind. "Guys, don't do anything for now, just stay back and keep your distance," Daniel whispered to his two teammates. They nodded in agreement, respecting their teammate. All right, first, let's test her defense, and then her speed, Daniel thought to himself, rushing away to the nearby trees, jumping away to another area.

"Come on all ready, stupid brats," the foe smirked, looking around from left to right continuously, keeping a cautious eye. Suddenly, to her wishes, a rush of three soul energy spheres zoomed out of nearby trees to her right. The orbs seemed to glow ominously as they left a trail of dragging energy with them. They rushed by, and gave a cute, yet threatening look to their opponent. "Not good enough!" she cried out as she put out her right arm, the arm with the disk wrapped around her wrist. Suddenly, the disk began to spin violently, the red glow growing on it again. Its hum and rotation was so intense, when the spirit spheres bombed toward her, they dissolved as soon as they touched the spinning, disk surface.

It spins? Daniel thought from his place behind a tree where he examined her every move. His eyes narrowed as he added the new piece of information to his calculations. It spins with a red energy… strange. Let's try this then, he thought, sending spirit spheres to her left. They trailed in the forest, glowing ominously until finally they emerged into the open space. She seemed to spot them before they came out and reacted quickly. Putting her right hand out again, the disk began spinning wildly with the metallic hum, blocking the spirit spheres. "What did I tell you before, brat!?" the foe grinned.

She blocked it! Daniel thought, not believing what he had just seen, not accepting it one bit. "How could she see it from behind her? Impossible… Daniel calmed himself down. Other than that, her defense seems to be a clockwise rotational defense using that disk that turns a red glow when it starts. As for her speed, she seems like she can sense attacks before they come up to her, before she could possibly see them, which is impossible. I'll have to keep an eye on that. There must be something else to it. For now, let's test her attack, Daniel suggested to himself.

"Hey!" Daniel cried out, jumping from the tree canopies and into the air. "Over here!" he called out, waving his arms as he landed on the top of a tree, revealing his identity completely.

"What the hell!?" Kenneth cried out comically. "Is he crazy?!" he yelled out loudly. Realizing his uproarious cries, he turned to the enemy's position, and she didn't seem to notice him. Good, he thought to himself, sighing in relief. That was a close call.

"Got you now, brat!" she cried out. With a small mutter, she sent the disk flying from her arm again, the red glow coming back as it spun through the air wildly. Daniel didn't seem to make a notion to move. He just stood there, watching the glowing ruby disk soar through the air with its threatening, electric hum.


	60. Chapter 60

"You sure this is all right?" Rick asked, dirt tired marks scratched all over his face, Marissa weak in his arms, her brown-blonde hair hanging from her hair like limp noodles. He watched over Lance's shoulder as he finished burying the last dirt on top of their first opponent.

"Yeah," Lance said, tiredly. "That way, no one will get to his corpse and rip him apart more than he all ready was," Lance piqued. He patted his hand on the dirt grave and smiled. "Thanks, old man," Lance thanked the opponent. If it hadn't been for him and his change of heart at the last minute, I'd be dead by now, Lance realized. And so would Marissa. "All right," Lance said, standing back up, filled with energy again. "Let's rest up as fast as we can, and start moving again," Lance smiled, beginning to drag his feet across the dirt, his voice back to normal.

PoVS

Birds began to twitter slightly as the night began to die out, the briskness of the air beginning to dominate everything. Damn it, I can't believe she's coming back, Derek thought as the glass shards pieced each other together again. Damn it… how to get Dylan and Zack out…? He stared hard as his foe returned back to normal, her arms rebuilding, her legs, her body, her head, her eyes… That's it! Derek thought as a light bulb came on inside in his head. His eyes widened in shock to his realization. I can't believe I didn't think of that before! Let's try that then!

"What's that look on your face, rat?!" his opponent muttered loudly as an evil grin spread across her face. Derek was soon getting tired of that smirk.

"Shut up, old lady," he finally talked back to her. With an angry charge, he sent his shadow arm flying through the air again, the limb rushing past the bushy trees. The evilly set fingers crashed through the foe, breaking her into glass shards again. They quickly rebuilt her again, and the shadow arm just struck again, just waiting to break her over and over again into pieces. It gave Derek some satisfaction, yet none at all. My plan's working, Derek thought as he continued to push back the rebuilding piles of glass into the more shadowy area of the forest.

With one final push, Derek sent her into the shadows of the forest, where she finally had the chance to rebuild herself. "Stupid kid, no matter how many times you break me I'll always return as good as normal!" she yelled at Derek angrily, mocking his apparent foolishness.

"Yeah," Derek actually agreed slightly. "But, just because you keep rebuilding yourself doesn't mean nothing happened to you," Derek told her. She put a confused and mocking grin on her face. The painted expression always seemed to be one of disgust and snotty rich girl pose.

"What are you saying, boy?" she demanded equally.

For once, Derek scoffed. "Look at your feet," he pointed out. His foe obeyed with a resistant look painted over her bodily expressions as well as her facial ones. Soon, a shocked expression replaced her resistant one.

"Wha…what is this?!" she demanded with an angry cry, shouting as she tried desperately to move. Her feet wouldn't obey. Up to her forelegs, a sticky, shadowy substance rose from the ebony of the trees around her, and clawed at her as if beckoning her to stay, to never leave and be their friend. Just as if she thought they were crazy, she denied strongly, wildly thrashing about like a fish just caught by a fisherman's hook, realizing it was in deep trouble. The sticky shadows seemed to resist her wants as well, stretching upward from her legs, making it harder for her to move. She almost fell forward as she tried to break free, but each and every one of her efforts was failing.

The shadows continued to stretch forward and soon, they took over half her body. She still resisted somewhat, trying to break free yet not even moving the slightest inch, and all Derek had to do was wait. "I'll get you for this you shitty brat!" she cursed at him. He didn't seem to care. He just gave her a hard look, waiting for the shadows to overtake her. Especially her mouth that was full of everlasting complaints to last the century.

His hopes were soon fulfilled as the concealing shade-over was completed, and his foe's figure was completely enveloped in the tight, shadowy hold. "What are you trying to pull?" the woman cried out, her voice bubbly and echoing from the tight, pulling shadows.

"Stop trying to break free," Derek suggested. "The shadows that are wrapped around you are enforced by three layers, one layer of my Half Spirit's energy sandwiched between two thick shadow layers. Together combined, you trying to break into tiny pieces to reform in another area in that shadow hold would be like a rock trying to release itself from elastic. There's no way you can get out of it," Derek explained.

"Damn it, kid, I'll kill you for this!" the complaining woman threatened. Inside the wrapping darkness, she thought carefully. I never thought a naïve kid like him could figure out a way to stop me from regenerating. Not too bad, but as soon as he launches an attack on me, I'll be freed from this damn prison and my powers will be active again. There was no beneficial purpose to him for imprisoning me like this.

"Just shut up all ready," Derek pleaded, standing comfortably on the dirt ground. He watched the shadowy figure try to burst out, but it seemed to weaken as time passed on. Looks like she's giving up, Derek realized. If not, then… Derek held out a hand. Clasping it into a fist, the shadows surrounding his foe suddenly churned and tightened, stopping any movement of hers.

What's the meaning of this? Derek's foe complained to herself. What's this tremendous amount of pressure added to the shadow? Damn it… Is he going to suffocate me in here? Nice try, I can't die from such a human cause. I'm made of glass, remember? She scoffed in her mind. He'll find out sooner of later.

All right, now that I got her into position, Derek thought, preparing for the next step. As he gathered his Half Spirit's power, the shadows around his foe began churning together, like mixing into a big blow, merging into each other violently. A Shadow Arm rose from the ground, its palm large and threatening, and its fingers creepy and bent. The fingers crawled in front of its unsuspecting victim. The woman lay silently in her shadowy coffin of deviance, unable to move due to the tremendous amount of pressure.

The shadowy hand rose up to her face, its threatening look blinded by the case of ebony holding the foe ever so tightly. Slowly, the fingers began to close around her face, a tight grip around her eyes, as if she weren't blinded enough all ready. And then, concluding it all, it finished it off with a huge closing of its fist, breaking off her eyes and sending the millions of tiny glass shards into the air.

The foe let out an utter cry, a loud screech of pain as the binding shadows released her from the hellish hold and let her live once more. She fell to the ground, bringing her shaking fingers to her face, feeling around her eyes and looking for them, finding nothing. "My- my eyes! You asshole! My eyes! What have you done?"

PoVS

"Can't escape!" the booming voice seemed to circle Dylan. His white hair seemed to be caked with sweat all over, his green eyes filled with the state of panic, frozen. Dylan gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the cries of the booming, godly voice. The orange, blackish pond had ripples rushing through it as the constricting chains bound Zack tightly, his arms wrapped in the metal prison.

"Shut up all ready!" Zack yelled comically, screeching at the godly voice. "You never shut up! Dylan, tell your other voice to shut up!!" Zack screeched desperately. He began to breathe heavily after saying his rounds of "shut up".

"You think I can control it!?" Dylan yelled back, his face just as comical and desperate. As if on cue to his desperate cries, an earthquake began to bloom. The ground first rumbled violently, rattling the chains in the lake as Zack was restrained by the heavy metal. Dylan stumbled on his feet and fell to the floor, crying out as his arms flung in the air without help. "What's going on?" Dylan cried out, his voice drowned out over the increasing tempo of the earthquake. The sound soon became unbearable and the round rumbled violently, shaking the two Minors like a snow globe.

Things flew about in a wild behavior, and the crescent moon above seemed to shriek in a banshee's battle cry. Trees were shaken terribly, their leaves fluttering about, something ominous about them as they fell solemnly to the floor, remaining calm in the splitting earth. Zack tried to speak, but his voice was completely drowned in the crashing earth. Dylan knew it had to be complaints. As always. But he had to admit, it was pretty funny to watch him yell at stupid things.

Suddenly, pieces of the world began to fall apart, even the air. The orange skies and surroundings began to fade, and the wisps of moonlight died carefully, as if it were a life threatening thing to do. Painful yells came from the godly voice, as if it had just been stabbed in the heart, filling Dylan's ears as he tried hard to stay in place on the floor. This earthquake… that yelling… Dylan thought as he was shaken violently. It's not normal… just what's going on?!

PoVS

Back to the real world, Derek watched as he waited for the rest of his plan to take place. It should be working, Derek thought with gritted teeth. He stared hard as the still night remained calm as ever. Glimmering glass shards floated back down to repair her eyes as she continued to cry out in pain.

Suddenly, a rumbling took place, and seemingly out of thin air before Derek's very own eyes, two figures rolled out, churning on the ground intensively as the dirt picked up around them, seeming weak and shocked. Yes, it worked! Derek thought.

"What?" Dylan muttered to himself as he got up, feeling the cool breeze around him. Could it be? he thought carefully. "Where am I?" Dylan looked around and found Derek's friendly, yet glaring stare. "Derek-san?" Dylan muttered blankly, his eyes wide open with surprise.

"About time you guys got out of that illusion," Derek sighed. "I was beginning to think how much longer I would last here."

"Illusion?" Dylan muttered. He seemed confused, but as he began to feel the real things around him, he realized right away what had happened for the past few hours.

"Damn it!" the foe screeched. "You shitty rat! I'll get you for this!" she cried out in an angry complaint as the glass shards finished rebuilding her eyes. She stood up, her teeth chattering silently, her limbs weak and dragging on the dirt floor. She faced the three teammates now, the place where her eyes used to be blank. Then, suddenly, her eyes revealed themselves, opening up from the blank space on her face, as if they had been closed. The demonic stare of her barely human eyes was chilling to look at.

"Who's she?" Zack asked, getting up and taking his hands to pat the dust off his clothes. The Wind Minor's voice seemed finally calm after realizing where he was. He glared hard yet blankly at the woman with the demonic appearance.

"Our opponent," Derek answered with his voice calm as ever. He walked up to his two teammates to make sure they were here for real, and he wasn't actually caught in the illusion again. Of course he wasn't. He all ready far surpassed that kind of thing.

"I'm Kyou, and you got that right, you dumb shits!" Kyou screeched, finally giving her name. "Damn it! It still hurts!" she complained, clutching one of her eyes as she used the other hand to strike the ground with amazing force, towering glass shards emerging from the dirt ground like towers summoned to protect and offend.

The shard towers clattered forward, slowly reaching for the now three man team. "Wait a minute," Zack said calmly. "You're the one who put us in that crazy orange world?" he spoke, his voice rising. He pointed an accusing finger at Kyou, who still clutched one of her eyes that was tearing ever so slightly. His face went slightly comical as he began his accusation. "Do you know how crazy being locked up drives me?! You sick lady!" Zack yelled, his mouth growing ten times as large when he screamed his insults.

Over all his commotion, he didn't notice that his two teammates had all ready jumped away to nearby trees to dodge the screeching shards of glass that were now about to pierce Zack. "Zack-san!" Dylan whined with his almost child-like voice. As Dylan rushed to his tree branch, vines emerged from the floor and wrapped around Zack, pushing him backward and giving him safety as the shards rushed by. As the vines were cut by the shards, they set Zack down on a nearby tree branch, keeping him safe Dylan sighed in relief as he released himself from the panic it took him to keep his cooperative secure.

"Wow! Look at that glass!" Zack shouted in awe, smiling at the sight. "Amazing!" he complimented mindlessly.

Derek sighed. I knew he was going to be a trouble on the team… oh well, he coped. Watching the thick shards sink back slowly into the ground, he examined Kyou closely, making sure he didn't miss one observation.

As soon as her hand moved away from her eyes, he could see that the filled blackness of her eyes slowly moved away, like an eclipse just about to end, revealing the whiteness it had hid for so long. She growled as saliva came down instantaneously down her chin. She gave a hard glare to the three boys. "So it was your eyes after all," Derek muttered to himself. Kyou scowled.

"What should we do?" Dylan asked Derek as the tension began mixing in the air. Oh, how they loved the tension. Dylan's voice was stammering, almost unsteady. It took him a while to get him back to being used to the regular world and not that sickening, frozen orange world. Dylan never wanted to remember it again.

"Just stay back and help me for now until I figure something out," Derek informed, sending a wave of shadows before him rushing past the forest and crashed down on Kyou. She dodged expertly as the crashing black waves looked so real as they imitated real ocean currents. She jumped in the air, and the shadow padded land followed her, rushing darkish limbs up in the air as she began to fall back down. Two or three limbs rushed up the first time, and as she dove back down to the ground, she cut their bodies with a glass blade, moving acrobatically in the air like she had practiced it a million times.

She landed on the blackness wave again, and soared through the air once more, the clawing shadows trying to creep up towards her. Two limbs of shadows came from the ground and rushed at her in midair. That's good! Derek thought. She can't move in midair! This time, I'll get her!

Just as the two limbs raced side by side together for their target and were seconds away from achieving their goal, Kyou immediately sprout glass panes from her back, and molded them in a wing like formation, ducking under the two hits as they rushed past. Shit! Derek gritted his teeth. She can even make glass forms come out of her body! Doesn't matter, he realized.

As the two limbs rushed past her, they were suddenly hauled back, and churned together for one big blast. They reversed their direction to make a sneak attack on Kyou, and succeeded as the blast pierced through her body and made a sickening crack of glass as she broke into tiny little pieces again.

"What the –" Zack cried out in disbelief. Could this be for real? Dylan thought. Slowly, she began to rebuild herself again, the clattering glass pieces putting each other together like a jigsaw puzzle. Kyou was back right away. From the shadow grounds spread small waves of Half Spirit energy and rained like missiles from below as Kyou soared through the air, dodging each one as they rushed past like bullets.

As if being deflected, the waves of shadow energy were deflected back in like a sphere like area, sending them back for Kyou. Come on, hit her, hit her! Derek thought as he tightly clenched his fists, controlling the bullets of shadow intensely. The torpedoing shadows soon got her and crashed through several parts of her body, glass shattering everywhere as she lost her body piece by piece. The first hit kept her suspended in air as many others followed it, a type of overkill as her body shattered into millions of pieces again.

I'm starting to see something… Derek realized. Okay, so she can come from the ground and rebuild herself after any attack. She's immune to the Darkness, and the glass _is_ her body. She can make glass from the ground and seems to rebuild at different speeds depending on where I strike her and the intensity of my attack. Shadow Arm to the stomach will give me five seconds before she comes back. Shadow Arm to the torso, five seconds, attack from behind, ten seconds, and a random circling attack, fifteen seconds, he counted as the glass shards built her back.

"It's useless to try and kill me!" she cried out with a laughing smirk, mocking Derek's efforts.

Derek disregarded her words. So her speed so far averages to about eight and three-fourths seconds. She also seems to rebuild herself starting with two separate piles that the glass shards converge at. When those two piles are done building, she connects those two and grows back into limbs and a head. Either closed spaces or places away from her main body are her weakness. Derek remembered when he trapped her in the shadow coffin and broke off her eyes, which took a long time to rebuild. I say, let's test that…

As she shuffled through the air, a shadow limb from the side of the forest came racing through the air, catching her arm by surprise. "What?" she cried out as her wings wavered lightly in the brisk air. "What're you trying to pull, damn it?" she complained as the shadows wrapped around her arm completely. Damn you! she thought to the team as she brought out her other arm and chopped off the first one, sending many glass shards and wisps of shadows into the air. She growled. That could've been dangerous, she thought through gritted teeth.

Close spaces it is, Derek noted. Just as her arm began to rebuild itself, another shadow arm caught her by surprise from the side, shocking her in a petrifying fear.

My arm… damn it! Kyou thought with narrowed eyes. "Hey!" Derek called out to her.

"What do you want, shitty rat!?" she yelled angrily at him. Her teeth showed signs of glassy fangs in the dying moonlight that couldn't seem to be found. They glimmered so brightly like twinkling stars that poked holes in the fabric of night.

"Close spaces are your weakness, isn't it?" Derek asked with a smile. "In that case, you can't rescue your other arm now from complete destruction while the other one's rebuilding, right?" Derek outsmarted her.

"Damn you, boy!" Kyou shot a string of curses at the black haired boy in her mind as she looked at the tightening shadows enveloping her arm, getting ready to smash it into pieces. She looked to her other arm, and found the glass shards still flying back to it, rebuilding it slowly, as if taking as much time as possible. "Curse this slow-ass body!" she complained once again.

"Your arm's done for," Derek notified. With a hand hung high in the air, clasped into a fist immediately, the shadows around Kyou's arm tightened and began to add tremendous pressure. Soon, the sound of shattering glass and painful shrieks of despair filled the brisk, dying night air.


	61. Chapter 61

As clinking shards fell in a horrid clatter to the floor, the sounds of despaired shrieks of pain were drowned by the falling glass. The air's coolness suddenly became friendlier, a more soothing type of cold. Dylan stared at the falling glass clattering to the floor. Just what is this girl? he thought in fear.

"Shit!" Kyou shrieked. She lost her balance in the air and began to edge unstably, her glass paned wings fluttering weakly. Kyou fell to the floor with a crash, her body preserved. Her wings held limply at her sides. "Once this arm grows back, I'll tear you apart, got that?!" she threatened in her banshee voice.

"That might happen," Derek acknowledged, his voice calm. His stare was unforgiving. "But, even so," he pointed out. "It's taking your arm a long time to grow back, isn't it?"

Damn, Kyou thought, gritting her teeth angrily. He's figured it out. But not all of it. I still might have a shot at killing this brat. "Guys," Derek called to his teammates, keeping his cool, black eyes on the foe. "It looks like we're going to have to kill her," he pointed out, his voice calm and cool headed.

"Kill her?" Dylan cried out in shock. What's he thinking? Dylan thought, his eyes beginning to shudder violently as he stared as his teammate, asking himself if the Derek he saw before him was the real one. "Are you crazy?" Dylan cried out, disagreeing with the Shadow Minor. His voice seemed to boom off the trunks of bent trees.

"You don't understand!" Derek demanded in a rising voice. "We have to! Before she kills us!" Derek pointed out, his voice angry. You could tell he didn't really want to do such a thing either, but it was the only way to keep alive.

Damn it, Dylan thought, gritting his teeth while narrowing his eyes. I can't believe it's the only way? "Have we really become the kind of people who have to kill before we get killed? Is that who we are now?" Dylan muttered to himself.

"That's life here, get used to it!" Kyou screeched horridly. Her scream seemed to be demonic, not of this world. An angry grin spread across her face like the blues of the afternoon sky.

"You shouldn't be talking," Derek suggested. "You're the one about to die anyway," he pointed out, his voice showing not the least bit of nervousness. His eyes showed nothing but seriousness. His arms crossed in front of him, he didn't even seem to breathe. It was like watching a statue full of meaning.

Kyou scoffed. "Aren't we acting so full of ourselves?" she muttered loudly, loud enough so that the sky could hear. "I'll give you credit, though, you were able to free your stupid friends from my technique. It's a wonder how you ever found out."

"It wasn't hard," Derek noted seriously. "Your body is made up of glass, so you can rebuild yourself. But, if you had rebuilt somewhere else secretly instead of right in front of me, I would've never figured it out."

"What're you talking about, boy?" Kyou snapped irrespectively. "What does where I rebuild myself have to do anything with what I'm saying?" Her voice seemed to calm for some reason. She seemed to begin to show split personalities.

"You rebuild the most urgent parts first, obviously, and the part of your body that controls your techniques are urgent, are they not?" Derek said with a sigh. "The first thing you begin to rebuild is your main body, because it connects to the rest of your body, but also, I noticed that you rebuild your eyes as quick as possible as well. At first, I thought it was for the purpose of observing, but seeing how abnormal they are from the rest of your human-looking body, I figured they had to be it."

"I see," Kyou muttered. "You're not too dumb for a kid," she complimented, her tone not in that way at all. Slight noises of glass shards against glass were heard as they piled to her missing arm, not even half fixed. They glistened in the growing sunlight at the horizon of the forest, slowly rising as if taking its time, resistant to come out, playing peek-a-boo on the world. I need more time to rebuild myself, Kyou realized. With three of these kids in the way, my arm's going to take a harder time than it all ready has to bring itself back. However, I think I can buy myself some time, Kyou thought, her available arm moving ominously. Her only fingers at the moment cracked unusually as the sound of glass was heard inside them. Almost ready… Kyou thought with a weak grin.

What's taking her so long? Derek thought. He sighed, closing his eyes. He breathed in the cool, brisk air as dew began to surface, as well as the early morning light. A third of a circle shone at the horizon, pouring hints of light everywhere that filtered through the tree canopies and limbs. I haven't gotten any sleep, Derek thought, his arms crossed tightly in front of him. If I keep going like this, my mind will become clouded, and I won't be able to think straight. On top of that, I'm the only one who didn't eat in my team, so I'm at a weaker disadvantage, and at this point, she seems to want to kill me first. Great, Derek thought. I don't have much of my Half Spirit's energy left to use, nor do I have much of my own. I need to rest, Derek thought to himself as he brought his hand to the back of his tanned neck, feeling the hot, sweaty perspiration. Opening his eyes, he revealed his narrow stare as he watched for Kyou's next move.

"Now!" she cried out, her eyes widening in an evil stare, her glassy teeth showing beneath her barely human lips. Her hair seemed to defy gravity as she suddenly disappeared, her presence zooming away through the rising morning. Derek gasped sharply as he quickly positioned himself, his eyes widening in surprise. She's fast! Derek thought as he watched the blurring figure rush through the trees toward them. He swallowed hard. His teammates seemed to do the same.

Kyou rushed through the nearby trees next to the team, leaving glass shards as a trail of memories behind her, snaking through the limbs like an acrobatic expert. I can barely catch her with my eye, Derek realized from narrow eyes. His dark, spiky hair seemed to rustle from the lack of rest. The mossy tree body he stood on seemed more unstable.

Kyou continued to shuffle throughout the forest, surrounding the team in a confusing trail of glass. She made a full circle around them, clinking glass floating ominously in the air, as if they were in outer space. "Got you!" she cried out as she smiled once more evilly, taking a moment to stop before she rushed forward again.

As she bulleted through her own circle she made, the three Minors dodged desperately away from her rocketing attacks with her own body, glass shards surrounding her like threatening daggers. This speed and intensity of her attacks… Derek thought as he kept an eye on the glass human missile zooming everywhere randomly. How did it become so much different than before? Derek thought as a drop of sweat rolled down his tanned, hard thinking face. Damn it…!

The bulleting missile began to pick up speed violently, as if she no longer aimed for the Minors. It's like she's imprisoning us, Derek realized as he watched the bullet circle them, then finally stop outside of the millions of glass shards floating mysteriously. "What're you trying to pull?" Derek interrogated her for answers as she gave a slight smirk, glass shards still piling into her missing arm. Part of her bicep was rebuilt now. The sun's light shimmering through her body like it did to any ordinary glass.

The glass shards surrounding the team quickly answered Derek's question, hurling their own bodies toward him like their own tiny little missiles. She's trapped us all around! Derek realized as he brought his arms to his head and closed his eyes, preparing for the shards to dig deep into his body.

The sound of clinking glass filled the air as Derek waited longer than he expected, waiting for the immense pain to take over his body. When it soon became too long, he opened his eyes, slowly and barely at first, then fully as he pulled his arms back down in realization. "A cage?" he stammered as he looked around him to find him and his teammates locked in a glass type pyramid.

The growing sunlight flickered the stars away as it poured into the glass cage, hot against Derek's sweating face. His breathing began to pick up, and suddenly he began to feel an immense heat around him, pouring sweat down his face like rain drops on the stormiest day imaginable. "What's going on?" he muttered weakly as his breathing became completely unbearable, a type of breathing someone would have if they had just been through a million mile track. His heart began to beat faster and faster, like a prisoner wanting to get out of his cage. Hot sunlight filled the glass pyramid they were trapped in like a feverish demon.

"Plan succeeded," Kyou muttered as she smiled outside the glass panes, her voice muffled through her cage. She had her arms crossed in front of her, her eyes opened demonically and confidently, as if she knew from a prediction that she had won the fight.

"What's going on?" Derek demanded, sweat rolling down his face like a waterfall. The beady drops fell to the floor, no longer clinging to the tip of his nose or chin. The hot perspiration forced his eyes even narrower.

'The glass I made around you to trap you three in were made from the strongest minerals in the ground, combined with a special molding of mine," Kyou began to explain confidently. "The glass that imprisons you now is a type of glass that magnifies any type of weak light over a thousand times over. For example," Kyou went on. "If a flashlight were to transmit through the glass surrounding you now, it would have equal force of the sun at three hours after the break of dawn. So, imagine what kind of intense heat someone would feel if the sun were to be magnified by the same amount the flashlight was!" Kyou ended happily, soaring through the air as her bicep was completely rebuilt, the glass shards now working on her forearm.

"Damn it!" Zack complained, his eyes going wide with humor. "Lady, do you know how crazy being locked up drives me!? It gets me nuts!" Zack told her, shaking a fist in a childish way at her. She grinned, amused at his immature behavior.

Derek looked at the glass window panes, staring hard at the transmitted sunlight, the white, intensive light almost blinding. Forcing a hand to block out the sun, he noticed something, his eyes going as wide with realization as they could with the burning sun. On the glass window pane was tons of particles. The particles floated across the surface of the glass, but then disappeared, as if they hadn't been there in the first place. At first, Derek was wondering if he were hallucinating. Sand…? Derek realized what it was immediately. He was suddenly brought back to what Kyou had said before.

_"This glass is denser than steel yet harder than diamond."_

Is that so? Derek thought. In that case… Derek picked up a rock from the ground below him. It was hot just like he felt all over. The blazing heat was overtaking. Placing the cragged rock against the glass pane, he moved it slightly over the surface, revealing a tiny scratch on the glass. That's why… Derek figured out.

"Great, Derek!" Zack complained. "Look what you got us into! I'm burning!" Zack screamed. Jeez, Derek thought as he tried to gather his thoughts from Zack's eternal screaming. Kyou and Zack would make a great couple, Derek thought, the bright sunlight spilling all over his body.

PoVS

As tiny hints of light began to pour from the filtering branches of the mossy trees of the forest, panic seemed to rise and tense up as Daniel waited the flying, red disk to make contact. "Brother!" Kenneth cried out from his place behind the tree. Teresa seemed utterly shocked, her mouth wide open in horror.

"Miss!" Daniel dodged the disk at the last minute, the electric hum cutting into the trees below. Thought so, Daniel figured, backing up to another tree top. So her attacks are mid-range and easy to dodge. Exactly how I thought they would be. "You might be a good opponent at defense, but when it comes to getting a chance to attack an opponent, you don't do so well, do you?" Daniel figured loudly.

Kenneth sighed in relief. Teresa seemed to have lost her thoughts, spreading them everywhere, her emotions mixed, but more or less confused. "Says you," the foe replied. A tricky grin spread across her face, as if she had something planned. Her sudden change in emotion piqued Daniel's interest.

"What?" Daniel muttered to himself, his eyes puzzled beneath the glasses that held the reflecting sunlight in his hold. He peered down to find the humming come back. He could see the red disk perfectly, and it continued to spin like a wild Ferris wheel, a never ending circle of fearful fun. Within seconds came another disk from the first one, taking away its red glow, as if the first one had just cloned itself. "Impossible!" Daniel shouted out. I can't defend myself from this one…! It was too unexpected… Daniel realized, feeling himself stumble uneasily on his feet. All I can do is wait, Daniel thought as he closed his eyes, squinting beneath the heavy eyelids that had bare rest.

Suddenly, the sound of metal clashing and screeching was heard like a sharp, despaired cry. The disk was surprisingly knocked back into the air, falling limply to the other disk's hold, beginning to spin again with that ominous red glow. "W-What happened?" Daniel thought as he opened his eyes slightly. He choked on his breath as he opened his eyes wide again to find a glimmering shield of ice coming from the tree he was standing on. The ice was like an unstable sheet, a part of a glacier that had fallen off to protect Daniel. It had knocked back the disk that threatened him and stood there like a monument of hope, reflecting the sunlight dramatically. "Ice?" Daniel muttered to himself. I see, he soon realized.

Daniel peered to the bottom right as he found his brother giving him a corny thumbs up pose. He smiled his wide smile that always seemed to give Daniel more confidence in his time of need. Ha, Daniel laughed slightly, smiling a small grin. He's still the one protecting me, Daniel thought, shaking his head. I'll have to pay him back with compound interest later, Daniel promised him silently in his thoughts.

"Hey, hey!" the foe called out. "Don't take your eyes off of me!" she demanded as the disks were hung back to her right arm's wrist. "You just might die that way," she threatened with a barely friendly grin.

Daniel scoffed silently. I promised Shintenmaru I wouldn't use these again, but in this case… Daniel thought as he pulled a hand into his pocket, shuffling the things around, feeling for the thing he needed. Got it! Daniel thought as he pulled out a card. On it displayed the Japanese word for "bang," and it began to glow with an ominous white glow from Daniel's touch. The glow filled his face and the ice wall's interior as it cracked and fell into tiny little pieces, having all ready served its purpose.

With a fling, Daniel threw the card like a dart through the air. It raced past the trees and wind as it zoomed with that white, suspicious glow. "What?" the foe cried out in shock as the card came into contact with the ground in front of her, sticking out of the ground like an arrow on a tree. The bleak glow of it began to intensify until finally, it gave a huge explosion, a loud rumbling noise soaring through the air as red fumes and dust piled against the clouds.

Moments later, as the dust continued to clear, Daniel found his arm on his brother's shoulder, whispering into his ear. "Got it?" he mumbled quietly, making sure the opponent didn't figure out where he had gone.

"Yeah, yeah," Kenneth mumbled, staring hard into the rising cloud of smoke that seemed to be everlasting, never gone like an infinite life span. His icy eyes revealed nothing but a comfortable feeling – something indescribable. With the final word, Daniel ran off into the forest again, away from his two teammates, wishing them good luck and hoping they wouldn't get caught. "Let's go," Kenneth mumbled, smiling in excitement.

Putting out his arm into the wide open space, he began to fire ice shards randomly from his hands, aiming directly for their foe. The sound of screeching frost was piercing in the early morning. "You're going to have to do better than that!" the foe mocked their attempts, defending herself with the spinning shield again.

From Daniel's point of view as he rushed through the forest, the trees in his way as they rushed by, he watched the glowing red disk spin, defending their foe from his brother's ice shards. Clockwise rotation from the front, Daniel noticed. As he rushed past, he soon found himself nearing behind her, watching the disk. Clockwise rotation from the back as well. I thought so. So she uses the two disks to cause friction while she installs her own energy into the two disks, creating that red glow and a good defense. "You're not getting away!" the foe cried out as the ice shards finished firing and she flung the disk from her wrist again in Daniel's direction.

No way! Daniel cried out in his mind as he jumped to his right, away from the foe as the disk sliced through the trees, barely missing him at his nose. A tiny sweat drop rolled down the side of his face. He picked up his glasses, their hold getting unstable. As the disk continued to fly through the air again, he fell back into the forest, sending strings made of his own soul energy to attach himself to a tree's limb. Reeling himself upward, the disks lost track of him and began to reel themselves back to their owner. How does she know where the attacks are coming from…? Derek wondered carefully as he stared hard through the trees, his eyes filtering through them. Hanging lowly like a spider from the branch, he stirred up a careful plan to test her abilities out, staying still, all the while ignoring the outside world after him.

Okay, let's go, Daniel thought, finishing up the last bits of his plan. This might not succeed so well, but here goes. Opening his mouth wide like a hunger that was never forgotten, Daniel let out a stream of thin needles made of soul energy. They ran through the air silently, glowing not even in the growing sunlight that pierced through the trees. The needles aimed for the foe, and she blocked accordingly with the same old, red, spinning shield. "How many times do I have to tell you?" she yelled out. "All your efforts are useless!"

No way! Daniel thought with widened, fearful eyes. Those needles were thinner than wire! Even if she did have eyes on the back of her head, she still couldn't have seen them! There must be something else going on! There must be something working for her… but what? Daniel sighed and shook his head, clearing his senses. Okay, calm down, Daniel, calm down. First, let's find her range of what distance she can sense them at. Then we'll figure out the rest.

Detaching his hands from the soul energy strings, Daniel sent arsenals of needles around the wide space inside the forest, spreading them out in different direction at different distances away from the foe to experiment on her. Okay, almost all set up, Daniel thought as he fingered the invisible strings controlling the arsenal of needles carefully applying them to a perfect match up to his plan. Okay, ready from all four directions… Daniel calculated, swarming his eyes left to right over and over again to make sure everything was perfect. One... he thought carefully, a sweat drop rolling up his forehead for once and into his hair. Two… he counted up as he narrowed his eyes, his green eyes glimmering in the slight sunlight. Three! And at that, he released the strings holding the arsenals of needles, and the sound of firing metal began to fill the dewy morning.


	62. Chapter 62

The firing needles made of soul energy soared through the air like random directions of rain, filling the early morning with a horrid screech. A pale light continued to grow through the trees, framing the frantic leaves in a holy outline. "How disruptive!" Daniel's foe screeched, blocking all the waves of needles expertly as they came to her. Thin, glowing spikes fell to the floor limply as they were flung in every direction when they made contact with the spinning, red disk. They struck through the ground like lightning and stayed there, glimmering in the growing sunlight. The empty field soon became filled with prickle. "Is that all you've got?" their opponent asked, the red disk slowing its rotation as the red glow of it died out. "How disappointing."

Fumes? Daniel noticed. She releases fumes when her disks spin…This is taking longer than it should, Daniel thought as he rushed through the trees to his teammates again, asking for their help once more. Soon he found himself by Teresa's side, whispering lightly into her ear. "Teresa," he spoke in undertone. She remained still, as if not acknowledging his presence. Yet, Daniel knew she was paying close attention. "I need you to make another force field with a fourteen meter diameter. Can you do that?" Daniel murmured lightly. He had a feeling Teresa didn't even want to speak to him now. She seemed different than everyone else who was a Minor. Well, the one who stood out the most, anyway. She gave such an eerie, different vibe.

She nodded her head slightly, and closed her eyes, focusing her energy. Daniel smiled thankfully, a grin that soon wore off. He paid his attention close to the field again, the needles fading away slowly, appearing and reappearing in the very, very faint sunlight. Purple wisps in the air began to grow and thicken, the sound of hardening filling the brisk air. "Oh?" their opponent murmured. "What's this?" she spoke lightly to herself, a challenged grin extending across her lips.

The wisps crackled as they grew in the air, wrapping around the female from far away, slicing the dirt as they surfaced. The opponent seemed to look around confusedly, yet at the same time excitedly. You could tell panic was showing in her eyes as the tension grew in Daniel's. As he watched the churning violet swim through the air, a bead of nervous sweat desperately clung to his chin. He swallowed hard, sending the knot in his throat to the pit in his stomach. He feared of the damage that would take place during the expansion of the force field. The beady perspiration that clung to his chin fell weakly downward, no longer able to hold on to the tip of Daniel's chin. The drop fell with a plop against the weedy grass, and seemingly at the same time, a loud explosion was heard.

Daniel's eyes went wide with rising tension as the violet field expanded and pushed back the many trees. "What's going on?" their antagonist shouted with a grin. "Lost your sense of direction?" That gave Daniel an idea that suddenly came to mind. As the field finished expanding, Daniel whispered in Teresa's ear again.

"Close in on her," he commanded lightly. His voice seemed to become monotone; not his. Teresa gulped. And kill another person? She thought to herself, her eyes open with fear. What should she do? No, snap out of it! My life began with death since who knows when. Even more entered it when I found out I was a Minor. Why should this be any different? She found her hands trembling at her side, still pretty much unsure of what to do. "What's wrong?" Daniel seemed to chant into her ear, background music to her thoughts that were shaken by his voice. She squinted hard, her eyelids trembling as well in a kind of fear and panic. She needed to convince herself even further. It's true that I want to pay the debt that I caused for myself when I killed those people by accident back at the mental institute… But they were innocent! They didn't deserve death! Teresa's thoughts reined more throughout her head as tears wet the dirt ground in tiny specks of puddles. This person… she'll kill us! And if I don't kill her first, we'll die right here right now, and I won't ever get to pay my debt. Yeah, that's it, she thought regaining her confidence as she reopened her eyes, purple energy filling her all ready violet pupils.

With a hard, newly fixed glare, the force field began to close in like a threatening wall, trying to crush the rival. It seemed to have trouble moving, as if something were blocking it from the inside. "What?" Kenneth whispered to himself, keeping his voice low. His frosty eyes glimmered in awe. As Teresa felt the Half Spirit's energy become overtaking inside her, her eyes glowed with a higher level of purple, the neon violet unnatural. Her teeth were tightly grit like a hungry beast, a hateful purple wrapped around her wildly. Just as I thought, Daniel narrowed his eyes.

"Something like that isn't going to work!" the antagonist snapped, smiling as she watched the force field tremble violently, as if it were about to explode. Suddenly, a red energy began to trace behind the walls of the force field, as if another wall fighting back. Their foe smirked evilly.

"Why can't I…?" Teresa spoke through gritted teeth angrily. Her features tightened, she poured energy into the force field. Violet built an aura around her as the force field seemed to struggle more than before. So that's how her voice sounds like, Daniel smiled. Turning back to the battle, the force field shook horridly and dangerously, until finally, cracks soon spread all over it and was heard, piercing through the brisk morning. Kenneth caught his breath in his throat. Daniel took a sharp gasp. The opponent smiled.

The cracks consumed the purple force field and kept it in place, taking away all its energy. The red energy that had fought with it spilled through the cracks, like deadly fumes of power. The fumes spread the cracks out even more, and soon, shards of blistering purple fell to the ground, dispersing into thin air before they even touched the dirt surfaces. Kenneth gulped. So she was able to defeat even our strongest defense, Daniel noted. It's just as I thought.

As the light dust cleared and the purple completed dispersing, Daniel rose from his place, standing on his feet again. He walked out of the forest, and as soon as he entered the barren field they had built around Teresa, their opponent seemed to notice him. She took a sharp gasp as she turned her head, giving the Minor a hard stare. "Daniel, what're you doing?" Kenneth muttered, trying to call out to him. It was too late. He had all ready gone too far into the field. Their foe kept a cautious look, careful to block anything that might happen.

What is he thinking? Teresa thought. Is he really that stupid to confront her head on like that? "What do you want?" their rival asked, holding up the metallic disk before her, the humming tool beginning to spin wildly again. Red fumes released into the air yet again. Daniel continued walking, his steps seemingly weak, his arms dragging at his shoulders with his eyes hard on the floor, as if he were in shame.

He looked up slowly as he found himself only a few feet away from her. His green eyes cat-like, he locked stares with the opponent. She tightened her features as she readied her stance. Kenneth seemed uneasy behind that same old tree. "This battle's become way too hard," Daniel piqued. His words seemed to surprise everyone. The foe seemed to let down her guard, somewhat, her eyes going wide with surprise. "No matter how hard I think, I can't make up a good solution. I'd rather just die right now," Daniel explained.

"What? Are you crazy?" Kenneth screamed. His voice echoed through the barren area. "You can't give up now!" he yelled to his brother.

"Shut up!" Daniel snapped loudly, turning back to glare at his brother with hardcore, emerald eyes. Damn it… Kenneth thought, tightening his fist. What is he thinking?

No, that's not it… Teresa realized, watching closely. Her violet eyes twinkled as the sun faintly spilled on them. Her breathing picked up just by a tiny scale. "Oh?" the foe piqued. "Is that so?" she scoffed. "I knew you'd come crawling out like a rat asking for death sooner or later. It's about time!" she said, pulling back the spinning disk in the air before Daniel, her eyes widening in a panic of excitement. "Die, rat!" she cried out as she let her arm come down on the Minor. Daniel, head bowed heavy on the floor, waited for death. Seconds later, a horrid screech was heard, and blood went flying sprouting through the air, followed by a loud, moaning cry.

PoVS

"It's about time we left," Mark said, staring up at the fading stars. "The sky's getting brighter. At this rate, we'll have an advantage. We should get going now," he said, pacing back to the dying fire. Wisps of white smoke danced in the air with each other, having the time of their lives. Eric sat solemnly on a wooden stump, watching the twirling wisps rise slowly into the air.

"Yeah," Eric muttered, getting up, taking his mind off of the entertaining smoke. His brown eyes twinkled as he smiled. "Walter, let's go," he called out to the last teammate to get ready.

"Got it," Walter murmured as he slid out of the trees, taking silent steps toward his two teammates. "Just taking a look around the forest for one last time to check for any chances of pursuers," he excused himself as he approached the two. His brown eyes were always as narrow and concealing as ever.

"I see," Eric said reasonably, his friendly eyes peering to the rest of the forest that awaited them. "Well, we should get going," Eric suggested. They were the farthest away from sunrise, yet it still somehow reached them. "We'll have to leave everything here."

"Yeah, yeah," Walter brushed off his words, implying that he knew it all ready. "Let's just go," he said, rushing headfirst into the towering trees. He set foot on one of the branches high in the sky. "You guys coming or are you going to slow me down?" Walter asked seriously.

Eric scoffed with a smile. "Yeah, yeah, we're coming," he said finally, zooming off to the branches as well, soon followed by Mark. The team soon found themselves rushing through the trees, gliding easily through the light breezes that brushed against their faces.

Back at the camp, a pair of dark, pained eyes watched them run away into the foresting, dead trees. Darkness surrounded the mean, beckoning gaze as a hand picked up the axe from the floor at the campsite. White smoke continued to swim upward into the air, but this time, they didn't seem to have as much fun anymore. They dance had sorrowfully ended, and now they awaited their death for when the wind picked up, they would be brushed away, forgotten. The hand was discolored as it silently picked the axe up from the floor, the axe that Eric had used to chop the wood that he "found." The grayish- brown skin was eerie as it crept back into the darkness, the last bits of sunlight the axe got shimmering off it. "I'll take this back," a whispering, demonic voice sounded as a horrid swing and crack pierced the dewy air, followed by a washing pile of blood into the air like cannons had sent it, falling limply in a puddle to the floor. The eyes winced as they washed away the pain. "Why must prey always run away?" the voice muttered eerily and deeply.

Behind the eyes was a figure silhouetted in darkness, its back against a tree with dead, gray-green leaves. Two dark heads were connected to one body with their arms crossed in front of their chest. Its voice scoffed. "So… are you going to let me have fun first this time?" the voice asked, not creepy enough to match that of the first one's. A dreadful smile showed inside the darkness.

"Do as you wish," the stronger voice murmured, its eyes piercing through the forest, somehow still seeing the three Minors after they had long gone.

The other voice scoffed again. "Good," it began. "I was wondering when you would give me a chance to play."

PoVS

Derek thought carefully as hard as he could with the hot, blazing sunlight all over his body. It was overwhelming, and he knew that soon he would become dehydrated and shimmer away, as well as his teammates. I can't just let this girl win… Derek told himself over and over again. It was hard to concentrate with the heat on his body. At this rate, I can't enter the Darkness due to the loss of Half Spirit energy. I only have enough for a few more minor attacks left. Damn it. That sand… Derek remembered the sand on the glass shards that had just risen from the ground before when she had attacked them, and the same sand that caked the glass panes that magnified the sun's energy… and that scratch I made on the glass. If it's supposedly harder than diamond, then it wouldn't make a tiny scratch. But if I bet if I try now, the rock would break. In that case…

"I'm getting cooked," Zack said stubbornly. His voice was hard to hear over the shaking air. He sat uncomfortably with his arms crossed in front of him, his eyebrows twitching as he sat cross legged on the floor. Sweat rolled down his cheeks and his skin was burning like wild fire.

Dylan sat uneasily as well, fumbling with his feet. Damn it… he thought. There's not enough water sources underground for my roots to reach it… I can't escape getting dehydrated. Sweat piled on the tip of his nose until finally plopping to the floor. It's like even my sweat evaporates once it leaves my skin.

Outside the glass prison, Kyou kneeled on the floor, crying out in pain while the glass shards continued to build the rest of her forearm. The pain is getting more and more intense as it reaches completion, she realized. Damn that black haired kid! How could he do so much damage to me? I can't wait until he gets his head burned off. Damn this pain…! Damn it to hell! She cried out angrily in her mind as she winced at the overwhelming pain, her teeth tightly grit in restraint. Dreadful cries kept coming from her mouth as she paid not the least bit attention to the glass cage, hoping that it would do the rest of the job for her.

Sand… sand… sand… Derek repeated the word over and over again in his mind as his eyes were tightly closed, seeing nothing but redness as the intense sunlight pierced even the darkness of his eyelids. It seemed to burn his eyes and the redness got hot. Suddenly, an idea to end the whole thing flashed in his mind like something had just been dropped and given to him. He opened his eyes wide in realization, having to close them back because of the intense sunlight a second later. That's it! he realized. I can't believe I couldn't' see that before! "Guys," he called out to his teammates. They acknowledged his voice and peered to him as hard as they could without burning their eyes out.

"What is it?" Dylan muttered weakly, swallowing hard. His mouth was becoming dry and it was beginning to get harder and harder to breathe. He rubbed his eyes as one side of his face began to get the sunburn of his life.

"I think I know a way out of here," Derek informed them. He could see the excitement grow on the two chatter-heads. "But," he shut them up quickly, raising a finger, closing his eyes mockingly. "I need your help."

"Yeah, yeah, anything," Zack agreed, the hyper energy beginning to build in his eyes. He clenched his fists in front of him to show his willing. Derek smiled, something he would never do, especially at Zack. It wasn't that he was depressed or anything. It was just, it wasn't his style to smile so much. He always let himself be calm and cool headed.

"Good to hear that," Derek opened his eyes at the Wind Minor. Zack stared at him with empty-thought eyes. "I need you to make as much intense wind as possible inside this pyramid and try to blow these walls away," Derek informed. Zack smiled in agreement.

"Wait a minute!" Dylan choked out, protesting against the plan. He held up a hand in front of Derek, indicating to wait for him to say something. "Shouldn't we think of a better plan instead of using this one? It seems too simple and I doubt that wind will push away the glass walls. Don't you think our opponent would build her glass better than something that would be easily blown away?" Derek pointed out, letting all his thoughts out in one run.

"Yes, actually I do," Derek told the Botany Minor, his element's exact opposite considering how he could control light. Derek squinted hard at Dylan, getting closer. Dylan widened his stare, even more confused than before. "But, it takes a while for the glass to become harder than diamond and denser than steel. All kinds of glass have to start somewhere when they're created," Derek pointed out, regaining the confidence and excitement in Zack, who was just waiting for if he should make the wind or not. "Sand is one of those somewheres," Derek pointed out, staring hard without a smile at Zack. That indicated that he should start the winds. And he obediently did.

"All right!" Zack shouted with a burst of energy, putting his arms out at his side. Dylan kept his unsure look painted across his face. Closing his eyes and locking his teeth, Zack sent out waves of air blowing in every direction possible, the cooling, intense breezes breathing across his teammate's faces. He stood in the middle of the pyramid, and the glass walls began to shudder at the wind.

The cool wind brushed against Dylan and Derek, giving comfort to their hot, sweating faces. Their clothes fluttered violently as the winds intensified, and they were forced to hold a hand up to protect their faces, closing their eyes just in case. The diverging winds increased in magnitude, and Zack's clothes fluttered violently as well, the magnifying glass surrounding them shuddering even more. His hair began to dance above him as a white aura leaked out of Zack's body and surrounded him in an outline at first, then thickening later. "I'm not done yet!" Zack cried out in building energy as he made the winds blow faster and higher.

This guy… Derek thought as he watched Zack go at it. He still has this much energy after being burned by the sun and getting close to dehydration? His stamina must be off the charts… The glass panes shook and shook as the wind pushed and pushed at them, and suddenly, specks of sand began to show on the surface of the glass. It's working! Derek noticed. The sand continued to appear and seemed to replace the glass, and slowly the team began to feel the coolness return to their bodies. The glass was enveloped in the sand eventually, and the driving winds blew them away into every direction, specks of sand defeated by the forcing winds.

The winds slowly began to calm as the last bits of glass became a particle of sand. The three teammates began to calm down as well as the normal briskness of the way early morning surrounded them, comforting them in a well deserved blanket. Zack began to breathe hard after all his hard work, his head weakly bowed at the ground. Is he all right…? Derek thought in his mind. Did I push him too far? His arm remained in front of him, as if expecting more intense winds.

As if answering Derek's question, Zack peered up barely, still taking those heavy, immense breaths. Zack smiled at Derek, a smirking grin with his eyes narrowed coolly; sweat still covering his face like a mask that wouldn't come off. Derek smiled slightly as he narrowed his eyes coolly. This guy can be really amazing, Derek thought, his small smile barely seen.

"Damn it!" Kyou cried out. The team immediately turned their attention to her. "Whatever," she scoffed. "It doesn't matter if you broke out of my cage or not," she began. Derek took a sharp gasp as he realized what was different about her. "You guys die, right here, right now!" she growled evilly, her appearance more demonic than before, her eyes wide with her pupil dilated to half its original size, giving it a deviancy that could never be identified.


	63. Chapter 63

Kenneth and Teresa hid behind their respective trees as they waited for the tension to calm. Things began to get blurry for some reason. They watched as the blood that had spilled into the air fell into a limp puddle on the floor. The redness of the tiny pond sickened Kenneth. He began to fight off wave after wave of nausea.

"What…happened?" Teresa murmured lightly to herself, her voice half-gone. Her words spoken clearly, she also revealed Kenneth's thoughts as well. Two different pairs of eyes stared across the barren field and into the scene, observing it as much as they could from their distance.

At the scene, Daniel had his eyes wide open, as if he had been petrified into stone. His cheek was caked with blood, and his mouth hung open solemnly. His glasses reflected bits of sunlight, like tiny stars that refused to give up their nighttime comfort. "What… did you do…?" their opponent asked, her face also caked with a splotch of blood on her cheek, finding it hard for her mouth to move. Her eyes were wide open with even more shock, and her mouth hung wide open like a never satiated hunger. She choked on her breath as she tried to move, but could find no easiness in her body.

Slowly, Daniel's fake surprised expression faded away and into a normal, clever, smiling one. "Fooled you," Daniel smiled, his emerald green eyes showing his trickery. Taking a look at the two people from a distance, it seemed that millions of glowing, white strings connected the two rivals' bodies, taking away the female's control over her body. The wires struck through her, and spilled blood beneath her clothes. They looked celestial in the rising sunlight. Slowly, Daniel brought a hand to his cheek and brushed away the blood. "It took me a while but I finally figured out how your defense works," Daniel told her, smiling in pride.

"What did you do?" the opponent demanded, struggling in her restrained position, trying hard to move an inch of her body. Her efforts were worn out. Kenneth and Teresa stared in amazement. "How'd you find out everything?"

"It's useless, don't try to move," Daniel began. "I bound your soul with mine, so I control it now. You shouldn't push yourself too hard unless you want a quick death," Daniel told her. "Your two disks make a good defense, I'll admit that," he began to explain. "But, once they've been watched long enough, they're easy to get by. The only challenging thing was your invisible defense, though."

"Invisible defense?" Kenneth's eyes widened in shock. There was more to the red disk? How'd he find out? That was the same exact question the foe asked herself as the pain seared through every inch of her body like a parasite that kept sucking out her energy.

"First, you combine your two disks together so it looks like you only have one to fool the enemy, and spin the two in opposite directions to cause friction while installing your own energy between them, mixing it with the friction of the disks and creating that red energy you use for defense, right?" Daniel asked cleverly. "Next, the area in between the two disks releases red fumes on purpose, to create an invisible aura measuring about seven meters so you could detect any attacks that come toward you in that radius. I found this out when I sent those four different sets of needles from different directions."

The opponent took a sharp gasp of realization. No way, she thought. This kid is that smart to figure out my complete strategy? "You were able to detect each army of needles when they reached a seven meter distance away from you, and then you were able to block them accordingly," Daniel went on. "That's your defense. Your attacks are even simpler. It's just hurling your disk at a mid range position. But, since you use your second disk as a backup for the first one, you reveal the fact that you have two disks, and not one."

Damn it… their rival thought as more pain piled into her body. I can't move… and at this rate… "After finding out your strategy, I pretended to want to give up so I could walk into your fourteen meter diameter field of watching without getting attacked. This is why defense type enemies like you are just a pile of junk once their shield has been pierced. You guys make me sick," Daniel scoffed. "This time, you'll learn that going all out on defense can still be beaten. You're just a tiny crybaby hiding behind a rock," Daniel insulted. The foe scoffed. She had no words to say, because now, she realized that he was right. "I told you all ready our spirits are connected, right? If I pull these strings and you soul just happens to come out -" Daniel was cut off by a few last words of the foe.

"Wait! Don't be too hasty!" she said in fear. Her eyes shuddered as Daniel pulled the strings slightly, and a stream of blood came from the corner of her lips. "Who says you're not an all out defense type as well? You're just mocking yourself!" she suddenly accused at him, smirking at her comment.

"What?!" Daniel screamed in her face. His emerald eyes peered right into hers, as if invading her thoughts. His teeth were tightly grit like an angry dog's. He tightened his grip around one of the many strings, warning their antagonist to watch it.

"You worked so hard trying to take me down for the sake of your teammates. You barely made them do anything. You're just a protector, and the protector is always the first one to go down! I may be the one who hides behind the rock, but in this case, you are the rock!" the foe pointed out in a dreadful screech, making Daniel realize what she was trying to point out.

"That may be true," Daniel began, calming down. His grip loosened on the strings. The foe's features blanked, and then an evil smirk grew on her lips. "But… I made a promise," Daniel said, surprising the foe. She didn't think he would say anything more. "A promise to myself that I wouldn't be the one who was protected anymore. A promise that told me it was my turn to help the ones I cared about… and not be a nuisance!" Daniel yelled back. "So I could protect my brother since he's guarded me like an angel for all of my life!" Daniel finished the rest of the comeback in his thoughts. He's been protecting me all the time since I can remember… and I was always the one hiding behind him, using him like a shield while I was too scared to do anything, Daniel thought, imagining his old self curled up into a ball, waiting in the darkness as his brother stood strong before him, taking all the dreadful hits. The sounds of imaged punching and kicking filled Daniel's mind. It made him gulp hard. But when he almost died… Daniel remembered. He remembered waiting in the Inner World's room, listening to the slowing beat of the heart monitor, looking at his brother's sealed up face, the friendly eyes locked away into a prison of hell. And hell for his brother meant hell for him as well. So I won't take another second hiding behind him like a bug under a rock, so I won't put him in any danger again. I owe him my life… and its all the more reason to die for him when the time is right!

"What's the matter?" the foe provoked. "Too afraid to pull the strings?" she said, noticing his hand falling to his side as he continued the thoughts. Teresa watched in awe as she realized something deep in the corners of her mind. Kenneth smiled as he watched his little brother become so much more independent than he ever thought he would. I see, Kenneth thought. So you really wanted to get out of that rock I put for you after all, he realized with a smile he couldn't seem to wipe off.

"I…" Daniel began to shoot back. "I'm not afraid to do anything for my brother!" Daniel snapped, screaming in her face, giving a shock to her as he suddenly brought his hands quickly to a string and pulled strongly, choking her. She cried out as the sudden pain became overtaking. She couldn't seem to breathe anymore as her eyes widened so much; they looked like they would pop. Her mouth hung open, trying to catch her nonexistent breath. Damn it! She thought. This pain… isn't natural! Her last thoughts reined her mind as the strings slowly pulled out a glowing, yellowish figure that came from her body. The figure was shaped like her, and slowly it was taken out as the foe fell to the floor, weak and helpless, dead. The strings reeled in the spirit closer and closer until it went inside Daniel, giving him more energy. The sudden intake became overwhelming for him as he dropped to his knees, hurling loudly, retching horridly. He coughed as he began to take big breaths, a sudden headache growing in the back of his mind. He stammered on his knees as the dead body next to him slowly began to discolor, turning gray into stone.

Daniel looked up and met eyes with his brother who peered from the trees, who ran up to him quickly to help him up. "Thanks," Daniel muttered as he wiped his mouth weakly, his legs feeling light.

"No," Kenneth told him. "Thanks to you," Kenneth smiled. Daniel smiled back. Teresa watched behind the bushes, amazed at what she just saw. He… how did he become so powerful? She thought. He seemed much more powerful than I ever saw myself, using all those tricks to gather information and those new techniques that he built up on the spot… amazing. Teresa was speechless. She couldn't find her voice anywhere, and her legs were as weak as sticks right now. She thought hard, something interfering with something else. Is it… because of his brother? He's so much stronger because of his connection with his brother? Does that mean that bonds don't always end up in heartbreak? Suddenly, her talk with Eric replayed like a video in her mind.

_"What if two people have a connection all ready, and one of them reads a note, saying that connections are pointless, and you're the one who gets hurt in the end by the other person. Then the other person sees it lying around, and starts to believe in it as well. Then, who's the one who gets hurt in the end? How can anyone get hurt like that if both of them think the other one is going to hurt them in the end? If they are truly scared of losing the other one, then they will not harm the other one, since they do not want to give that feeling to the other person. So if it goes like this, then, how will the connection end by someone getting pushed away?" Eric had told her with his arms tightly crossed, his eyes friendly and eager to solve her problems as his tough grin showed her he was capable._

I see, Teresa thought to herself, returning to the real world. Bonds may not be useless after all… but… why am I always the one who gets hurt in the end? Also, being in a team like the Minors that has such relevance and importance to it, it's going to be impossible to avoid bonds. What do I do…? Teresa thought, getting a headache as she shut her eyes in denial. I don't want to get hurt again! Suddenly, Eric's voice popped into her head again, and suddenly, she opened her eyes, ready to take on the world. She gave a sharp gasp, and in a flash, all her worries were wiped away. She felt strange of the sudden change. That Eric… she thought to herself. What's with that guy?

"We should get going, Teresa-san," Kenneth put a shoulder on her. Teresa gulped and nodded slightly. She watched their backs as the two walked on, Daniel's arm laid across his brother's shoulders. Maybe Eric was right… maybe he will get new people he cares for and will protect happily. That is his purpose in his life, isn't it? However… I still have yet to find mine, but I have a feeling… a strong one, too, that I'm going to find it here somehow, Teresa finished up her thought. She stared blankly into the depressing sunlight that filtered through the grass blades to her feet. The calming light made her comfort level rise. Yet, there's something else, Teresa thought. Something I can't let go of… the thought of losing someone else again that I care about, her worries rose up again. She sighed as her steps became less energetic across the dirt ground.

PoVS

"I'm not done yet!" Kyou declared as she rushed for Dylan. Dylan watched her swift movements carefully, his emerald eyes making quick movement across the air. Her power's increasing like hell… Dylan thought as the last beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face. With a surprising burst from a random shrub of bushes came Kyou, her devilish grin and stare an obvious look for a demon. She growled hungrily as the two fought with hand to hand combat, the sound of shaking glass echoing through the rising morning as her arms swung across the air. If she hits me with a glass shard, I'm dead, Dylan realized. Though, she looks too clouded and overtaken by her power to think of such a basic move at this point. All she's doing now is attacking me with some really good moves, Dylan realized.

Dylan blocked expertly as crazy hits came at her like a kung fu master's moves. She's not making any wasteful movements, Dylan realized as he watched her kicks and punches come from all different directions. He actually feared her as he tried to make some hits on her. Her eyes were widened like a crazy, psychotic killer's. The two continued to fight with the limbs, the sound of impact going through the air. Dylan jumped in the air, swirling as he jumped over her, trying to make a kick from the air but missing as the kick landed on her forearm. As he came down, he flipped to his feet and began kicking and punching again. Swift combat moves continued and as she made one punch, Dylan jumped to her arm and gave an expert kick to her head, knocking her backward a few feet.

Getting back up from the ground, she smiled, wiping her mouth. She scoffed as she gave a hard stare. Dylan's breath began to form heavier and heavier patterns, holding his arms in front of him in preparation, giving a hardcore stare. I have to keep stalling her while Derek and Zack get ready, Dylan thought to himself. I can't let them down now! That means not using my Half Spirit at all, Dylan demanded of himself. But, I can still use this, Dylan thought as he bent down on one knee to the floor, holding a hand to the dirt ground beneath him. Cracking from the dirt began to form as roots emerged into Dylan's hand, thick, carroty roots that had a sharp touch to them like a dagger. He clasped the root tightly in his hand, taking it from the ground as he got back on his feet. The cold surface was numbing to his fingers.

Not bad, Kyou thought of her opponent as her body was consumed in glass shards, kind of like Eruption with those craggy rocks. He's an expert fighter, but I bet there are many people in his group that are better than him. It'll be fun ripping this rat apart, Kyou thought. His teammates even left him here for me to eat, she scoffed. Kyou smiled evilly as she clasped her fingers together. They traded warmth somehow, their glassy exterior sharp and edgy. "Let's see how much you can grow!" Kyou screeched as she disappeared into the air again, rushing towards him.

Shoot! Dylan thought to himself. She's getting faster and faster by the second! Just what did she do to herself when she rebuilt her arm? Millions of thoughts fell like storming rain in Dylan's mind as Kyou appeared behind him unexpectedly, pulling back her hand, readying herself to swipe her claws at him. Dodging quickly at the last minute, Dylan turned and jumped away from her. I have to keep my distance from her for now, he thought to himself. Pressing his fingers against the palm of the same hand, he reopened his fingers to reveal a handful of seeds. As he continued to float through the air, he hurled them at Kyou with expert aim.

"Seeds?" Kyou smiled, mocking his attempts. "You've got to be kidding me!" Kyou blocked the seeds easily with her forearm. The seeds filtered through the shards protruding from her and glowed brightly, as if they were about to explode. "What?" Kyou cried out as she caught her voice in her throat, her expressions tightening. Suddenly, on cue to her surprise, the seeds flashed an immense light as popping explosions took over her arm, leaving it mostly unharmed.

Dust piled into the air around her as she lost the right to see. Dylan breathed heavily as he lay by the trunk of the tree, resting his energy for only who knows how long. Marks covering his body that showed his tiredness were overtaking. The cold dirt felt comfortable on his back as the sun piled on his emerald eyes. He breathed in a chockfull of soil scented oxygen each time he inhaled. It was a disgusting aroma to have inside your throat, but he didn't care. He was just looking for the coolness inside the dirt. The intense heat from the glass cage from before hadn't worn off just yet. It never seemed to give up. Dirt began to cake the back of his neck and some of his hair as he watched the wisps of dust from the explosion die away.

Suddenly, Dylan felt a tapping from the shadow of a tree nearby. He turned to his side to find the shadow in the shape of a hand, lightly tapping his arm. It's about time, he thought as he struggled to get up. He breathed one last heavy breath as he called out to his opponent. "Hey!" he cried out. Kyou stared at him with demonic, hungry eyes as she wiped the surprise away from them. Dylan carried a careful grin with his glimmering green eyes. "Bet you can't catch me!" Dylan shouted to her, mocking her.

"You brat!" Kyou screeched at him. She rushed out of the cloud of rising smoke and shuffled at amazing speed through the trees. Dylan gulped. She's fast! He noticed yet again. He took off through the trees as well, and headed for the rest of the plan. The sun seemed to filter through the needled holes of clouds and poured to the waiting trees below as panic was what pumped Dylan's blood as he raced through the weeding grass and damp dirt.

Nothing was heard for miles but the blood-thirsty feet of the pursuer hot behind his trail and the Minor's own heavy breathing. Derek should be around here, Dylan told himself as he watched the trees go by like zooming cars.

PoVS

Team one, Eric, Walter, and Mark continued to jump from branch to branch, the sunlight slowly fading away. Eric didn't know what it was about Walter, but he suddenly seemed more willing to work with them. He had a feeling Walter would be a close friend in the future. Someone definitely worth protecting. He was so talented and so cool-headed. He was a prodigy at being a Minor.

Walter rushed through the towering trees with their limp leaves almost half dead, their bodies crooked in a jagged attempt to touch the sky, their fingers cragged like an eagle's claws. Suddenly, his other side of him came to surface, the inner voice ready to make another confrontation. "You've become more willing," the voice echoed in his mind. Walter pretended on the outside like nothing was wrong. "What's wrong?" Nothing, Walter told the voice. Even if my objective is revenge on Void Core, to wipe out the organization and its members, I still must gain power. Gaining power comes from teamwork as well. I'm going to savor the moments I spend here. The voice scoffed at his words. "Fine," it said reluctantly. "But don't forget the task at hand!" it demanded. "Your one and only objective is to wipe out Void Core by gaining power. Not dozing off with some stupid friends you made and wasting your time with picnics in the grass!" the voice reminded. I know, Walter thought seriously. You don't have to tell me.

When Walter spoke to the voice, he always imagined himself back to back with another figure of himself, shaded a light astral blue as they sat cross legged, surrounded by the wrapping darkness known as his inner mind. "What's wrong?" it asked again. "You are just using an excuse to bond with others. You once told me that bonds were useless, did you not?"

Darkness began to wrap the imaginary image of himself, as if choking him to the depths of his thoughts. The darkness wrapped around his neck and body, and enveloped his legs. Walter squinted as he muttered slightly, his voice bouncing off the mind walls. Bonds are useless, Walter told the voice, the sound muffled by a wrapping darkness. His eyes remained calm and narrow, as if there were no shadows strangling him from behind, wrapping him in ebony cocoon. But… in a situation such as this, there is no choice but to receive and give bonds. Being a Minor forces you to create bonds with the other ones, does it not? Walter said, his voice even more muffled now, the darkness becoming thicker and thicker. Suddenly, the shadows stopped. They began to thin and stretch away, retreating back into the depths of Walter's mind.

"I see," the voice echoed, the astral green figure of him disappearing, almost ending their conversation. "How convenient…" it whispered lastly. "For you." Walter sighed inside his own mind as he was slowly brought back to the real world, ready more than ever to face the dangers that awaited him. It's the only way to prove that I've actually got some power now! Walter realized, gritting his teeth tightly as he felt more frantic and willing to rush through the trees with amazing speed.

As they continued to speed by, Eric watched Walter. He sensed that something important, something very relevant had just happened. But he didn't know what. All he knew was that it involved Walter and his own personal thoughts, something he was sure to never share with anyone else. Just what is he struggling with so much? Eric thought. What is the problem that he has such a problem with…? Why won't he let me help? It's one way I take care of the ones I care about… Eric thought as the wind brushed by, solemn and quiet, shy as the wind spirits commanded it to.


	64. Chapter 64

"Hurry!" Dylan provoked Kyou as she rushed closer to them. She filled the air thick with her murderous, death-thirsty energy. Dylan smiled mockingly as he stopped running and decided to wait, readying himself to fight again.

"Get over here, brat!" Kyou howled at him beastly, her glassy fangs showing beneath her lips, locked in a tight grit of hunger. She shuffled quickly towards the prepared Minor, the wind fluttering her hair in a hurricane as she came by. She readied her punch and swung it at Dylan, the Minor disappearing into tiny little specks of light as she made impact. "What?!" Kyou made her hundredth complaint. "Optical Illusions?" she realized. "Don't play with me like I'm a kid, asshole!" she demanded loudly.

"What's with all the insults?" Dylan reappeared a few feet away from Kyou in the same stance as before. "You don't see me making all of those mean comments at you," Dylan spoke sadly, his eyes in a kind of sadness. Kyou growled, thinking that he was continuing to play with her. Her eyes widened demonically.

"Shut up!" Kyou screeched as she swung another fist at Dylan, who disappeared into specks of light yet again. She hissed as another Dylan reappeared to her right a few feet away, standing in that readied pose. She attacked him, too, and it was another illusion. The hallucinations kept coming like a repetitive wheel that wouldn't stop. She swung at each one of them, hoping to land a hit at the real one for once. She drooled angrily as her teeth her grit to such a level that seemed impossible to achieve. "Why you…!" Kyou shrieked as she missed yet again, the clones keeping to come after one another. Kyou stopped to take deep breaths, taking a second to let her anger rise up and take over her body like a possession. She screamed a horrid battle cry as she swung again at the illusions, one appearing right after another.

After more slashing and screeching, one appeared right in front of her, only a few feet away, just waiting with those beckoning, too kind eyes. Kyou smiled. It seemed that the urgency has tuned down a bit, she realized. This must be the last illusion. With a rush, the opponent shuffled through the dirt ground and swung her fingers into its body, her sharp fingers another way of using long, thick glass shards. Kyou peered over her shoulder as she waited for it to disappear. "Now…" Kyou began. "Where's the next one?" she spoke softly as a wide, evil grin spread across her face. Suddenly, drops of blood came down to her cheeks, surprising her. "What?" she spoke loudly as she looked up.

She found Dylan's face, staring back at her with a clever grin and eyes, a stream of red coming down the corner of his lips. Kyou stared in disbelief. "You…you're not a…?" she was so surprised she couldn't finish her sentence.

Dylan scoffed. "Yeah," he said as he tightly gripped his thin fingers around Kyou's arm, which was still struck through his left side. Blood pooled beneath Dylan's clothes from the holes the glass shards made. "Got you now," Dylan said weakly as his fingers tightened around her arm. He coughed from the pain that he tried to ignore, wincing as he held it back.

"Fool!" Kyou screeched, her eyes still shaking. "What're you trying to do? Stabbing yourself like that?" She couldn't seem to move. His grip was surprisingly strong, even if he was lanky and thin.

"Physical pain is nothing," Dylan said weakly, his eyes shuddering, glassy. He breathed heavily in between words. He winced as the pain went to his head. Then he resumed his breathing. "Us Minors have to learn how to do things like this if we're ever going to win against anything," Dylan told her, swallowing hard. His breathing filled her ears.

"Minors?" she asked, confused. "Who the hell are you kids?" she demanded, her voice angry more than ever.

"Something like that isn't important," Dylan said, trying to keep his breath steady. He looked up to her and they locked stares. "You're not getting away this time," Dylan said as he winced in pain again. Suddenly, roots from the ground began to emerge, popping tiny holes as they rose. They wrapped around Kyou's legs like beckoning fingers, deviant, loving hands that wouldn't let go.

"Wha…What is this?!" Kyou demanded her eyes wide with horror. The brown, deadly roots continued to crawl from their hole, the half dead roots hungry, for they have not had a drop of water in such a long time, even if the soil was damp. It never seemed to reach them. The roots began to overtake her body, wrapping around her chest and arms, draining her energy bit by bit. "Are you….my energy?" Kyou stammered, finding it hard to talk from her fear and shock.

"Yeah," Dylan replied. "Soon, all your physical energy will be drained from your body and into mine," Dylan told her, watching the fearful expression tighten around her face. Dylan clutched her glassy hand tighter and prepared himself. Like a band-aid, he struck the shard fingers out of him, crying out in pain as the blood spilled into the air. As he drew his cries back in, he began to breathe heavily, calming himself. His arms limply fell back to his side and ran over his wound, checking how vital it was. Feeling his own blood used to make him sick, but somehow, now, having the title of Minor made him more fearless. Dylan grinned as he watched Kyou's strained reaction, looking at her fingers that were dipped with red. Her body seemed to glow as the energy was sucked out of her, the roots transmitting the energy into the weakened state of Dylan.

Kyou muttered weakly as she fell to the floor, the roots finally drawing back in. She stopped herself from falling, putting a foot behind her. Her body seemed to be topsy-turvy, swinging this way and that, her mind too clouded and confused. She had lost her senses, and now danced like a drunken chicken. Her footsteps were unsteady as her hair hung down her face; her head hung low toward the floor. Her arms were limp at her side, barely moving, just slightly swinging as she jumbled around. She struggled as she looked up to find the other two boys on a tree branch high above Dylan. "Nice," Zack told his teammate who smiled back, breathing hard.

"Okay, Zack," Derek said, preparing the last bits of the plan as Zack stood behind him while Derek was on his knees. Derek had his hands tightly clasped as if he were praying. His cold stare seemed to scan through the area for safety. "Are you ready?" Derek asked Zack, his eyes peering left to right repeatedly.

"Yeah, yeah," Zack brushed him off, trying to look brave and idiotic as he posed heroically. He clapped his hands together, the white energy beginning to pour out from him. "Suro-Kamaitachi! –Throw-Cutting Wind-" Zack declared as the surrounding shrubs and trees rustled powerfully, shaking in a coldness that pierced the dewy morning.

"What?" Kyou scowled as she found it hard to breathe. Suddenly, a blurring, swirling wind came by, drilling towards Kyou with a threatening screech. She cried out in surprise as the wind overtook her, the swirling patterns barely slicing her body in its glass position. "An attack of this level won't hurt me," she grinned weakly, mocking their efforts.

"That might be true," Derek told her, his eyes not showing any emotion. Kyou seemed shocked. "But most likely an attack of this level will," he continued. He seemed to react to his own words, folding his hands the same way Zack did when he called on the wind. Derek closed his eyes, preparing for his own kind of attack as the swirling wind made a sort of blurry cage around Kyou, who waited for the big blow. She was pretty sure the big blow would just be a puff of smoke. "Maina-Kage! –Minor Shadow!-" Derek declared, his eyes still closed in a meditative state. "Danpen no Shikyo! –Shreds of Death!-" Reacting to his declarative words, the slicing winds grew traces of black, wisps of it twirling inside the cutting breeze.

"What? Impossible!" Kyou cried out as the hurling black breeze gave an intense blow, slicing her everywhere thought possible, breaking glass shards by the nanosecond. The cold breeze was deadly, and brushed her hair as it sliced it into tiny hairs at the same time. She glared evilly and weakly, protecting her eyes from the wind. The black wisps continued to cut her violently, the sounds of slicing echoing off the trees for miles. The wind's velocity grew immense, and blood leaked out as the blackness sliced her cheeks that grew back to their human state, letting glass fall out. "I'm bleeding?" Kyou murmured to herself. "Impossible…!" The sound of slicing glass filled the early morning as her body was taken apart bit by bit, and as the three teammates watched.

So that's what it was, Derek thought as he watched with a careful glare. He put an arm on his knee as he waited carefully. When she rebuilt herself, she started with two piles, which represented her stomach and her heart and ribcage. As I thought, each glass shard always accommodates to the same part of her body over and over again. So, if I were to break her body into tiny little pieces, she would have to find out which shards go with which in order to rebuild herself. Also, the more broken up she gets, the harder it is for her to rebuild. That's why her rebuild time varies depending on the type of attack I use. "It's over," Derek told her. Her blurred grin still showed some demonic hunger, her eyes revealing her deviant thirst for death. "This wind's going to slice you up into so many pieces that in the end, you'll look like grains of sand instead of glass pieces on the floor."

She gritted her teeth in reluctance. She tried to speak but her voice was carried away by the rotating, intense winds. All she could do was give the death glare. As her head began to break apart into tiny grains of glass, she gave one last look at them before the wind calmed. Now, the wind disappeared into light wisps of breezes that rustled through the air comfortably, leaving the pile of glass beside. It was in a messy pile, all over the dirt ground like someone had just spilled it from a container that broke. "But," Derek began again, as if she could still hear him. "I know how deadly this place is, so I'll do you a favor," Derek told her. Wisps of shadow spoke his final words as they surrounded the glass on the floor, seeing a net of darkness over it, and taking it downward, into the dimension known as the Darkness. "That way, you won't be coming back," Derek said.

As the bulge of blackness disappeared into the earth, Dylan fell backward, the blood stain on his Japanese style robes beginning to soak everywhere. He found it hard to breathe, since the wound was so close to his heart. With a short cry, Derek jumped off the tree branch and zoomed to Dylan's assistance. He helped him lie down as he took the empty sack of food and began searching for bandages or something like that. Dylan remained silent, staring up into the sky as the pain disappeared. "Got it," Derek said, pulling out a wrap of useful bandages. He finished caring for Dylan's wound and helped him back up on his feet. It was hard at first, but they got the hang of it.

PoVS

"We should head for the ground. I think we'll have more of an advantage there," Mark suggested as his teammates and him rushed through the tree branches faster and faster.

"Okay," Eric said enthusiastically, falling back down to the floor below. He landed with a struggle, followed by Walter. A few feet away, Mark made a landing as well. Moments later, they found themselves racing through the forest again, feeling the slight breezes touch their hot cheeks gently. Mark seemed more of a leader now as Eric and Walter watched his back. This place was more Mark's territory anyway. A place full of dirt and ground.

"Hey," Eric called to Walter who ran as fast as him only a few feet away. Walter gave him an acknowledged, icy look. It showed no thoughts whatsoever, as always. "You still haven't told me what you're struggling with," Eric said seriously.

Walter scoffed. "I still don't see why it concerns you at the least," Walter said, not even a tiny smile growing on his lips. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock as he stopped in his tracks. Eric followed, wondering what was wrong. "Wait!" Walter called out to Mark, the tension in his voice showing. Something was going on that was serious. And Eric couldn't figure out what. His voice echoed through the dewy, calming air, alerting Mark quickly. The Earth Minor stopped in his tracks, hauling himself in shock.

"What? What is it?" he shouted, turning backward. Walter took his fingers and swung them in the air, an icy needle darted against the body of a tree. The cold, pointed spike made a loud thunk against the trunk of the tree. It glimmered in a shimmering panic as the sun's rising rays hit it.

Inside darkness, a voice cried out. Eyes widened in shock. "What? How did he know?!" it demanded in a whisper.

"You were careless," a voice answered back in the darkness, another pair of calm, cool-set eyes.

"Come out," Walter said, facing the tree ahead. Mark gave a confused look, as if readying himself to call his own teammate psychotic. "Your disguise is no good," Walter went on. "Your tree's shorter than the rest, and on top of that, it has rounded, curvy leaves, while all the other trees have spiked-edged ones," the Minor explained. Eric couldn't believe it. He noticed such a difference so quickly.

Mark swallowed hard. The tree began to deform, quivering in its image, as if melting into slime. "My, my," a creepy, echoing voice called out from the melting tree. The ice needle fell to the floor limply, its use finished. The contents of the tree faded away as it melted into thin air, revealing something that shocked everyone in its appearance. It rushed behind them, slithering through the air. No way… Walter thought. Could it be the same thing as before?

Walter remembered the time when he watched those two snake-like things rush through the air, one actually copying Mark's image, only to slither away later, retreating. Now, the two headed slithering being made their place just a few feet behind Eric and Walter, watching them with demonic eyes. "Damn it!" Mark cried out. "An enemy all ready?"

The twin-headed being had no clothes, nor did it have a waist down. It donned a snake like body with a chest of a man, and two heads as well. Their skin was discolored into a grayish-brown, able to camouflage with dust. "Looks like we've got no choice," the left head muttered. Its voice was creepy and demonic, a deviant's whisper. "Gaia."

"Yeah," the right head answered back, its voice different yet just as creepy. "Sanshouuo, -Salamander- Let's make this quick."

Sanshouuo grinned. "I can't make any promises," he said, smiling evilly. What are these guys? Walter thought, getting ready to draw another shobo. "What's the matter?" Sanshouuo called out to Walter. Walter caught his breath in his throat. "Getting a hard time to draw your weapon?" it called out, reading Walter's movements.

"Who are you?" Walter cried out, disregarding their comments. He gritted his teeth in anger, getting ready to fight.

"My, my, things have been changing a lot around here hasn't it, Gaia?" Sanshouuo asked his partner. He disregarded what Walter said as well. "People don't even know our names anymore," he said creepily. Gaia muttered in agreement. Sanshouuo continued to smile.

"This is going to be fun," Gaia smiled, laughing creepily, his voice rasping. Their white hair hung at their ears like Hyoumaru's did. They both had large, beckoning dark brown eyes that seemed to be the only thing human about them.

"So," Sanshouuo continued their conversation, tensing up the Minors, making them wonder about just what the hell they were doing. They're underestimating us, Walter realized. He swallowed hard. "Shall I let you go first this time?" he asked his partner, grinning in deviance.

"No," Gaia said weakly. "I'll let you go first this time, Sanshouuo," the deeper, raspier voice choked out. He seemed to have a hard time to talk.

"Oh?" Sanshouuo asked. "Really?" he said, making the word longer than it should be. "You were always the hastier one, Gaia."

Gaia's head hung low. "Is that so?" Gaia asked. "In that case…" Gaia began to move uneasily, their body slowly widening. The three Minors caught their breaths as they watched in awe mixed with horror. Slowly, Gaia began to move away from his partner, revealing his own shoulder, and more of his arm until they were only connected by their finger. A line of symmetry seemed to cut them in half as they posed the same way. The trace of the glowing light connected at their fingers now and their tail. With that final word, Gaia zoomed off into the foresting trees, disappearing for now. Walter looked behind him and met Mark's gaze. They both nodded at each other. Quickly, they switched places, Walter watching behind him as Eric and Mark stared hard at their new opponent, who showed his excitement from his creepy, devilish smile.

"Just as my partner said," Sanshouuo began. "This really is going to be fun," he laughed evilly. His laugh rustled the trees coldly. Traces of heat began to show and leaves and plants began to hiss. Mark gulped down a nervous, careful knot in his throat.

It's happening again, Walter thought as he peered behind him, watching a flower at Sanshouuo's tail begin to burn into cinder as its leaves dispersed into glowing ash, its petals turning a deadly gray. Suddenly, a rustling came from a bush at Walter's side. Over there! Walter noticed, turning his head as his eyes widened in alert. Mizu Kuruma! –Water Wheel! - On cue to Walter's silent declaration, an aquatic, blue wheel began to spin in the air, the water seeming to come out of nowhere. It blew specks of dampness into the air as the ring of wetness rushed downward on the bush. Under the lush green bush, Gaia choked on his breath. The water wheel spun and spun wildly and began to rush for the bush, leaving wisps of water behind as it crashed downward.

Suddenly, something flickered between the water and the bush, and sending out a tiny flash of light, there was a huge, crashing explosion. The explosion blew high breezes everywhere, fluttering Walter's hair and taking the attention of Eric and Mark. Wisps of leftover wetness dissolved in the air as the sudden explosion died out. "Damn it!" Gaia cried out. "How did he know?" he said, his presence disappearing. He vanished! Walter realized.

"You were too hasty," Sanshouuo muttered, smiling evilly as he laughed at his partner. Damn it! Walter thought, his back still turned to Sanshouuo, watching the bush and the rising dust. What was that explosion just now? It was so small, yet so intense that it evaporated my twister. Where did it come from? "You shouldn't take your eyes off of me!" Sanshouuo demanded, calling the battle. He rushed as he disappeared into a blur through the air, slithering like the fastest snake ever.

He's fast! Eric thought as he watched him slither away in fear, only able to take a glance at him as he completely bypassed him, smiling at him evilly, making a deadly promise that was concealed in secretion to his own thoughts. Sanshouuo passed by Mark as well, who watched him with the same fear as Eric. Sanshouuo grinned devilishly as he struck an arm at Walter, sending a punch with his clawed hand, surprising him with his presence as he was just inches away. "This is the end!" Sanshouuo declared as the claw came within inches of Walter's still turning head. Then, only a second later, there was a horrid crack sent through the air, a nauseating sound of impact. A despairing splash was sent through the air eerily. Then shocked cries.


	65. Chapter 65

The sun's light began to intensify with the tension, mixing and churning in the air to create an unnatural compound. Another horrid crack was ripped through the air like an air cutter. It was ear-piercing, and sliced through as surprised looks filled the scene. An eerie splash of ice water wet the floor easily as the rays of sun became warming. Walter looked backward finding the shocked face of Sanshouuo, his hand clawed through a pillar of stationary water. The ice cold water splashed a puddle to the floor as it was attacked, hovering in the air like gravity had no effect on it, its frames wavy and unpredictable like an ocean's current. The water seemed to be half frozen half liquid, either way, still as cold as the arctic oceans.

Walter scoffed as he watched Sanshouuo stay still, his hand still struck through the wave of icy water. "Going after the watchdog who has his back turned, huh?" Walter asked Sanshouuo, giving a clever smirk. Sanshouuo growled as his fingers began hissing white smoke, the sound of it a bit pleasant. "How pathetic," Walter mocked. "Why do you think I'm the one who watches out anyway? Water is one of the most malleable materials in the world," Walter explained, acting higher than his opponent. "It can slither and defend me from any situation, just like how your body works."

"Oh?" Sanshouuo piqued. An amused smile spread across his lips widely. He didn't make the first attempt to hide it/ His demon eyes seemed to twinkle in enlightenment. Walter wondered what he was thinking. "Is that so?" Sanshouuo spoke calmly. "Then, I wonder…" his voice seemed to trail off.

"What?" Walter cried out, noticing what he was about to do. Impossible! Walter thought. His eyes widened in complete shock as his mouth opened wide seriously. The hissing off his fingers against the quivering wave of water seemed extensive. It sounded louder and louder, like a hungry cobra playing with its tongue, starving for fun.

"Can it defend you from this!?" Sanshouuo said loudly, his smile becoming unnaturally excited. Walter's voice got caught in his throat. The hissing became clearer and clearer, and the white smoke began to fill the air completely until finally, something flickered lightly at Sanshouuo's fingers. The flicker was only seen for a second, a bare warning to the three boys as a huge, blistering explosion was sent through the air, the crazed banging filling their ears. There was no time to think. No time to breathe. No time for a heart beat to pass. Redness from the explosion painted the trees with its glow as deathly puffs of black jumped to the clouds above, the resistant white puffs resistant towards their opposite.

With wisps of the explosion clinging to his clothes, Eric rushed out of the rising smoke, carrying his two teammates in his arms, surprising them with their sudden rescue. He fell to the floor, bei9ng forced to let go of them as they worn him out so much all ready. He coughed, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath from the straining effort he made to save his friends that haven't even become so close yet. Walter carried a surprised expression on his face. His eyes beheld the sight of someone who actually made an attempt to save him, to help him. Such a sight seemed strange to him. "What… why did you save us?" Walter asked weakly, his words all jumbled up in his mouth. He lay on the ground, feeling the smooth dirt as redness continued to paint it with its eerie glow.

Eric continued to cough heavily, his breaths loud inside Walter's ears, giving him something he didn't realize. On all fours, the Fire Minor began to talk uneasily. "Because…" he began, his voice getting caught in his throat. "You're my friends," he coughed out, dust caking his face, blanketing him in the sight of weakness.

Suddenly, something flashed in Walter's mind. His eyes stayed widened. They never changed for a while. Why… Walter repeated in his mind as he couldn't seem to find the energy filling his limbs again. Why do those words sound so strange to me? "Thanks," Mark said as he got up on his feet, helping Eric do the same. Walter shook the abnormality out of his mind and stood up, dusting his pants off. Eric got up with a grunt, and soon they found themselves hiding behind respective trees, watching the enormous black cloud swim to the sky reluctantly awaiting them. The black cloud was never wanted. Not on land, not to the sky.

Eric hid behind the tree, waiting for the smoke to clear. Hurry up, it called for it. Why did it always seem so long for smoke to leave? The puffs of unwanted delay brought a somewhat nostalgia to Eric. An image of the past was suddenly brought back from the dusting explosion.

_"Father, look," Eric pointed to the sky as he noticed puffs of ashy smoke rise to the air. His innocent voice caught his father's attention right away. Eric pointed out the run down window and towards the sky that was piling with black from far away. Red ashes filled the air as well, a memory not worth remembering._

_"What is it?" Eric's father came calmly, his footsteps clicking on the wooden floor. Eric moved out of the way slowly to let his father catch a glimpse of what was happening. His eyes crinkled in uneasiness as he watched the blackness pool upward. "Is it a fire?" Eric asked him, tugging at his attention when he was barely half his father's size. Bandages around his arms filled with searing physical pain were ignored as he watched his father's wise eyes continue to peer outside. Flashes of red spilled on his face._

_"Yeah," he answered solemnly. "Must be," he said, seeming totally out of it._

_"What's the matter?" Eric looked out the window again. "Why is the smoke so slow?" Eric asked. "Why doesn't it just get up and leave?" Eric muttered arrogantly. His adolescent voice was squeaky like a mouse's was. His small body seemed too small for his clothes._

_A smile grew on his father's face. Then a chuckle. "Maybe it just has nowhere to go," Eric's father answered. Eric gave an obvious confused look. "The land doesn't want it for it fogs our sight, and the white skies refuse to meet their hazy opposite. So the black puffs will continue to wander around aimlessly, traveling slowly as it has no sense of direction as to where to go. It has no one to tell its story; it's lonely."_

_"Lonely?" Eric doubted. His brown eyes gazed outside the glassy window. The sun was bright in the sky, and the black wave of ash continued to travel slowly, the sadness showing in its doubtful movements._

_"You may not be old enough to understand it, Eric," the father said, his voice deep and loud. It was the voice that made Eric so comfortable. "But it has nowhere to go. It just needs someone to listen to it," his father explained._

_Eric put an unsure grin, a sight of unhappiness. "Don't underestimate me," Eric said stubbornly. He gripped the rail against the wall tightly, closing his eyes in arrogance. "Of course I can." His father chuckled under his breath as he pat the adolescent lightly on the head, ruffling strands of his hair. Eric pouted sadly as he watched his father's back turn away and walk smoothly. He turned back to the window, his young, innocent eyes watching the black smoke continue to swim aimlessly. "I'll listen to your story," Eric spoke softly, hearing the flickers of ash and fire from far away, thinking secretive thoughts locked inside his pouting lips. The sadness of the black cloud made the young child uneasy. He wanted to help._

Why am I remembering that moment? Eric thought to himself, shaking the memory out of his head. He brought a hand to his forehead to check for a fever. Am I going crazy? "Eric, are you okay?" Mark whispered to him. Eric nodded, not choosing to speak. Mark reluctantly took his answer. The three continued to watch the wisps of black pool against the sky once more, until a black silhouette of their enemy came from the rising smoke.

"Nice, Sanshouuo," Gaia called out from his place behind his partner, lying on his stomach comfortably in the tops of trees. Shadowy leaves concealed his presence as he watched the wisps disappear.

"No," Sanshouuo replied, turning his back to Gaia. "They aren't done yet," he said creepily in his grim voice. His words surprised the hastier one of the two. Gaia smiled as he realized he could get another chance at ripping them apart.

"Hey, Eric," Mark shrugged at his teammate' shoulder. He immediately caught his attention. "Let me tear this guy apart," he suggested, tightening his fist in readiness.

"No," Walter refused. "We don't have enough information about those two, and on top of that, they could be waiting for us to make a move. We can't do anything unnecessary that would risk anything important," Walter told Mark strictly.

Mark made an unhappy frown. "He's right," Eric told Mark. "We can't do anything wasteful. We'll have to stay on the safe side for now and do our own tricks." Mark agreed reluctantly. "We'll have to settle for this," Eric explained, closing his eyes as he focused, tapping into his Half Spirit. "Maina-Ka, -Minor Fire-" Eric whispered declaratively, opening his eyes as he took a short breath. "Mikonho Sattou, -Wildfire Rush-." Letting out the puff of air, the thinnest string of fire you could imagine came from his lips, and grew a flame on the road dividing the forest. The flame grew bigger and bigger, and as if it had a mind of its own, it rushed crazily down the road, heading for the blackish figure that represented their opponent. The brushfire was careful not to touch any trees as it gave off its flickering red glow. Cracking flames filled the air with its powerful redness, painting over the three Minor's faces.

"Oh? What's this?" Sanshouuo murmured. "Looks like a fire," he piqued, smiling at the challenge. Black smoke withered away at his side as his demonic grin grew. The flames crawled closer and closer like a demonic wave that had a never satiated hunger. "Exciting," he complimented. With a wave of his hand, a loud explosion took place at the head of the fire, the crashing clouds of black smoke filling the air once again, stopping the flames path right in its tracks. Damn it, Eric thought as he grit his teeth. He stopped the flames with an explosion, he realized as the red flames died out, leaving nothing left but wisps of memorable kindles that once were live with hunger.

Walter stared in awe. He swallowed hard. So he breathed out a tiny string of fire and made it into a land fireball that he later spread out to a crazy brushfire. He made the string as invisible as he could to not give away our locations. "Nice, Eric," Walter complimented his partner. He smiled thinly with his clever eyes as he watched the fire, still staring in awe. Suddenly, something shocked Walter from within, giving him a startle. What's this feeling? Walter thought, gritting his teeth as he brought a hand to his chest. Something intense began to bud there.

_"You're my friends," Eric had said before after he had rescued them suddenly from the wild explosion._

Walter found his breath heavy when he returned, finding uneasiness wrapped around him, beads of sweat growing on his forehead. His breaths became hot and damp. Damn it… Walter told himself silently, clutching his chest even tighter. This intense feeling… what is it?! Eric cleared his throat. "We have to separate those two. They must be stronger when they work together," the Fire Minor explained.

Mark scoffed. "They're just going easy on us!" Mark muttered. "I'll teach them," he declared as he got up with amazing strength, surprising everyone with his eagerness. He rushed up and raced out of the trees, preparing himself for a physical hand to hand fight. "Hey! Over there!" he called out in a threat. "I'll rip you to pieces!"

"Damn it!" Eric whispered loudly, his voice sudden and forced. "He's just asking to get killed!" Eric, surprisingly, rushed up to his own feet and headed out the trees, leaving Walter behind, even more shocked than when Mark ran out on his own. Damn it! Walter thought to himself. Have both of them gone completely crazy? Walter then too, rushed out on his own. Now the three faced their opponent from far away, who grinned evilly, readily. Walter and Mark froze their expressions as they noticed his threatening stare.

"Can I?" Gaia pleaded, his tongue sticking out excitedly, his eyes widened in demonic anticipation. "Please?" he begged as he played with his tongue, watching the three hungrily from the trees. Sanshouuo nodded lightly. "Wonderful," Gaia spoke, pleased. He drew back his wet, sticky tongue and rushed out of the trees with amazing speed, surprising the three Minors. He stopped at the ground in front of Sanshouuo and prepared himself. "Doro Tsunami! –Mud Tidal Wave!-" he declared in the creepiest, most abnormal voice. The ground began to shake ominously as the dirt in front of Gaia began to churn in the air and began to mix with the mud. A gigantic bulge grew on the ground and headed toward the victims like a rolling carpet underground, rolling and rolling as it increased its potential.

"It's coming!" Walter shouted out as it neared them. Only a second after did the wave of dirt come crashing down on them, the overtaking browns coming closer and closer until the browns became blacks. When Walter reopened his eyes, only feeling cakes of dirt against his cheeks, his senses woozy, he found something totally unexpected. He got up uneasily, his feet stammering as Mark followed. What happened? was what he thought to himself. Mark thought the same thing.

Gaia laughed maniacally, playing with his tongue once more. "Did I get them? Did I get them?" he asked himself excitedly, the amusement pushing his blood faster and faster. He wagged his tail happily as Sanshouuo commanded him to calm down.

"I'm telling you," Eric said, getting up to his feet. Eric? Walter realized as he turned back to find him stammering on his feet. He put a hand on his leg as he stood up for support. A streak of blood came down the side of his face. Dirt covered his face like leeches, and he easily wiped them off. He protected us… again? Walter realized as he saw no wounds on his body and felt bare pieces of dirt on his face. "I'll protect my friends again and again until death, got it!?" Eric told the two partner opponents strictly. He gritted his teeth as he took heavy breaths, wiping the dirt away from his skin.

"Idiot!" Walter shouted to Eric. His sudden outburst caught his teammate's attention. "Why?" he asked. "Why'd you do it?! Why did you protect us?!" Walter demanded. "Why don't you ever worry about yourself for once?"

Wow, Mark thought, watching Eric stammer on his feet, getting his energy back up. This guy… he's a great guy to have on a team like this, Mark realized as he smiled warmly. "Because…" Eric answered his question. Walter caught his breath in his throat. "I'll tell you again and again… even if you don't tell me your problems," Eric struggled. Tired marks covered the corner of his lips. "I'll protect you. That's my purpose!"

This guy… Walter thought. He's bleeding… and he's sacrificing himself again and again for the sake of others…just who is he? Suddenly, he had that jumpy feeling again that rose in his chest. Damn it! Walter thought as he brought his hand to his chest again, tightly clutching it. What's this constantly reoccurring feeling?! "I'm not done with you yet!" Gaia cried out as he slithered through the air down the road, towards the three boys.

"Who says we are?" Mark shot back, going headfirst to attack him. With a punch to the ground, numerous pillars of rock rose from the dirt, attempting to stop Gaia in his tracks. He couldn't be stopped. He dodged each one acrobatically, thinking of them as a trick to get past. As he was just a few feet from them, Mark flipped the dirt in front of him to make a rocky wall, this time tricking Gaia into slamming straight into it, causing a huge dent. The shattering of rocks was heard from the other side as Mark ran to his left.

"Over here!" Mark provoked, motioning for Gaia to come towards him.

"Why you!" Gaia scowled as he brought himself off of the cracked rock wall and towards the Earth Minor. Mark ran into the forest, attempting to bring Gaia far away.

"Mark!" Eric called out to him, calling him to come back.

"It's okay!" Mark grinned. "You told us to separate them, right? I'll catch up later! You two just take care of that other guy!" Mark told as he ran straight into the forest, disappearing from sight. Eric gritted his teeth. Walter had another bolt of emotion in his chest. His hand clutched it tighter, hoping the pain would wash away that other mysterious feeling.

_"You're my friend," Walter remembered Eric saying the first time he jumped in front of them to save them. "I'm telling you, I'll protect my friends again and again until death, got it!?" Eric's voice ran again in his mind. "Even if you don't tell me your problems, I'll protect you. That's my purpose!"_

Walter cried out in the corners of his mind. Why do I keep remembering his words? Walter asked himself. Why do I feel like I have such a need to make connections with him? Why? "You don't have time to look away!" Sanshouuo declared as he rushed toward the two Minors left Sanshouuo burned the leaves around him to ashes as he approached the two. He headed for Walter reeling in a punch while smiling evilly and confidently.

Walter closed his eyes, too late to block. Then, something reeled his eyes open. The sight of Eric blocking him once more. He's fast! Walter realized. Eric brought his hands to Sanshouuo's arm and pushed him far away, throwing him like a piece of trash he didn't need. He went flying through the air until he finally landed quickly, no feet touching the floor, not even his tail. "Why?" Walter asked Eric as he remained behind him. "Why do you keep blocking me? You don't know me!"

"I told you once," Eric began. Walter took in a sharp gasp. Eric turned to meet his gaze with Walter's. "Whether or not you tell me your story, we're teammates. Therefore we are forced to make connections and friendships, and I protect those friendships with every ounce of my life!"

"But why?" Walter asked again. "What if you end up dying? Then what will you do?"

"Good!" Eric growled. Walter was shocked at his answer. "That means I've served my purpose in life. That way I won't be empty when I die," Eric said calmer this time. His brown, powerful eyes gave a truthful stare that gave Walter a weird feeling. He's doing something… for me? Walter asked himself, unable to believe what he was saying, or hearing.

"Idiot!" Walter's inner self rang. Suddenly, Walter imaged his own figure made of green, wise energy. The color of jade fire was what his other half was made of, his own thoughts that kept him on the right track. The other self glared at him evilly as he brought himself about from behind Walter. "Don't lose your gaze on your goal," the voice told him. Walter calmed down immediately. Yeah, yeah, Walter told it. Even if there's not so much loneliness in my life now, I can't lose my beliefs. My goal is to wipe out Void Core, not to make connections. "Good," the other half settled down, fading away into nothingness again.

"Fine," Walter answered Eric. A readied smile grew on his face as a belittling glare full of the old meaning he always held seemed to be less concealed behind those brown eyes. "Let's go, Eric," Walter said, shifting his weight and changing his stance as he peered down the path to the slithering opponent, growling in a mean glare.

"Yeah," Eric answered back, smiling readily as well. His protective glare shone in the sunlight as Walter's hid in the darkness, something Eric would not realize for times to come until it was too late. They both stared down the path, and with three hard, mean glares, all three knew that the fight really began _now._


	66. Chapter 66

"You guys talk too much!" Sanshouuo hissed as he came zooming for Walter and Eric, who were just half-ready to fight him. The two Minors got ready to assist each other, preparing themselves for the torpedoing opponent. "I'll make this quick," the slithering foe promised.

Still rushing through the air, Sanshouuo swung his arms twice as he approached the two awaiting boys, churning the air around them mysteriously. "What? What's going on?" Walter asked as he noticed the oxygen at the ground begin to fizz like soda. It hissed evilly as it dragged dust with it, circling the two. "No way!" Walter realized. "Heat?" The two Minors waited back to back, watching the heat wave encircle them, hissing wildly as it caused friction with each other.

"Die!" Sanshouuo declared as the gathered heat became more intense. Walter took a deep breath as he realized what was about to happen. He cried out as his feet were taken away by an enormous explosion, the sound of cracking and blasting filling his ears wildly. He was pushed outward, rolling away from the rising smoke. Hot redness painted the dead trees once again as bits of rock fell back to the floor like slow, stony hail. Sanshouuo grinned as he watched the smoke disperse.

Walter spit out his own blood, realizing that he had just bit his tongue. The taste of it was bitter and unpleasant, but he forced it down anyway. He began to breathe hard, letting the wound be. The scent of hot ash filled the air. Eric… he thought. Where's Eric? Walter wiped his mouth with his wrist as he peered into the dying smoke. Its blackish gray dye was annoying, and Walter squinted hard to find traces of him. "I wonder…" Sanshouuo piqued. "Did he die?" He grinned.

Walter hoped not. He doubted the fact that his teammate had died. The smoke finally cleared away, and something sudden was shown. The sight shocked both sides. A human size cocoon made completely of thick water was inside the clearing fog, wrapped around something like it was its own kind. Slowly, the water began to fall apart, big chunks of it collapsing to the floor into splashing puddles. It began to reveal bit by bit what it hid so dearly, and it was none other than Eric. "Oh?" Sanshouuo became interested. "Interesting."

"I… I protected him?" Walter asked in disbelief, watching the puddles on the floor. I protected him before myself? Why? I…I don't know, he answered his own question. Walter brought his hands to his face and watched them, making sure he was himself. My body just acted on its own, he realized.

"Thanks," Eric said dully as he helped his teammate back up, preparing themselves for another round. Walter couldn't find his voice to reply. He was still so surprised that he did something so…not involved with him. What was going on with him lately?

After finally discovering his voice again, becoming alert once more, Walter replied. "Whatever," he brushed Eric's words off. "What do you say we beat this guy to shreds?" Walter suggested as he stood side by side with Eric. Sanshouuo smirked at the challenge.

"I'll second that request," Eric replied happily, readying his stance.

PoVS

Mark and Gaia fought hand to hand, both sides not afraid of anything. Mark tightened his expression in a watchful glance as Gaia seemed to be having the time of his life, smiling at every little thing as if nothing in the world was serious. The sound of blocking of various attempts filled the moving forest, cool breezes ignored as Mark couldn't find his own attacks to be effective. They continued fighting like this as they paced backward into the forest, the sound of impacts filling the air.

"Enough," Gaia muttered, flying backward to dodge a round of punches. Mark cried out in surprise. He wondered what was next. Gaia pounded the floor with his fist, waves of clay and dirt emerging into the air like geysers, snaking their bodies downward into the unsuspecting Mark. His mouth hung wide open as his legs shook, begging themselves to move. It was too late. The pillars of dirt came crashing down into a huge explosion like none other, piles of it flying into the air after its enormous impact. As the dust cleared away, it began to show nothing but a broken up statue inside a pile of dirt. "Stone Statue?" Gaia muttered to himself. He scoffed. "How interesting," he admitted as he found the real one rushing away into the trees. Gaia began to play with his tongue again.

Mark ran through the trees, panting heavily as he looked back once in a while to check if his foe was on his trail. Beads of hard work showed on his forehead. The cooling sun seemed to be warming at the same time as it shimmered off the trees gloriously. Turning back, Mark found something up ahead. Or better yet, someone. Someone he recognized. No way! Mark thought. What's he doing here? He stopped in his tracks as he neared him, watching the weakened state of the other Minor. "Daniel?" Mark brought the Minor up to his feet. His clothes were torn completely, his glasses cracked. Dirt marks covered his skin and blood seemed to leak out from everywhere. "What happened?" Mark asked.

"I…" Daniel tried to answer. His voice was weak and his skin was freezing cold. "Over there… they're in danger," Daniel answered bluntly. His eyes could only remain half open. He pointed to another way into the forest, making the best effort he could to lift his hand as he began to lose his consciousness.

"I see," Mark replied dully, looking down seriously. His eyes were shaded over, completely hidden in shadow. Holding Daniel's arm with one hand and tightening his fist with the other, Mark reeled back his punch, crying out as he landed a big one against the side of Daniel's cheek, blowing him a few feet away. The punch hit hard and hurt like hell.

Daniel laughed as he got up to his feet easily this time. "I see," he said evilly wiping the pain away from his cheek. "How'd you know?" Daniel asked as his skin fell to the floor like clay, his clothes doing the same, churning into a liquid mixture of mud and dirt. Beneath the fake identity was Gaia, a bruise on his cheek.

"You faker," Mark muttered. "Daniel has rectangular glasses, not oval," he let him know.

"I see," Gaia piqued. "I must have been careless again," he realized.

So it was this one, Mark noted. It was this one who could change his identity. However, it seems that even he can't make a perfect copy. From now on, it looks like I'll have to make sure whoever I meet is that person. If he manages a perfect copy, I'm dead, Mark told himself, tightening his fist in readiness. He rushed through the forest once more, and jumped as he attempted to land a punch on his opponent.

PoVS

This is bad, Walter thought as he and Eric watched Sanshouuo circle them in a complete daze, trying to confuse them. I've been using nothing but my body water up until now. Eventually, I'll get dehydrated. There's no source of water around here for miles, not even underground. I can't just use wasteful moves anymore. He swallowed hard as the scent of fresh dirt invaded him. "You can't run away," Sanshouuo's voice circled them. He seemed to drag dust along with him, clouding his presence. "I can intensify any source of heat around me and control it for my benefit," he explained. "I can churn it into high levels of friction, and make it into an immense explosion. Even if you try, there's no escape!"

I see, Walter realized. If he controls heat then that means his weakness must be dampness. But, it's hard using water from my body. Sanshouuo came out of the circling daze and began using physical moves against Walter. He blocked his punch, and tried to land a kick. He missed, and Sanshouuo zoomed away from Walter, still facing him. Taking a deep breath, Walter spit out puddles of pressurized water, all of them missing as Sanshouuo created distance. Like a catapult, Sanshouuo began to slither back, now diminishing the distance between him and Walter.

This time, Eric made attempts to attack. He spit out three equivalent small blasts of fire, all of them missing as well. Eric and Sanshouuo soon found themselves in a lock of fighting, both of them spinning and twisting just to get away from each other's attacks. Walter watched, examining their movements expertly. Wait until a good moment where he's forced to stop… Walter thought to himself, bringing a hand to his lips to get ready to blast another shot of water. Now! Walter shot out a blast of water, sending Sanshouuo flying, slamming him against a tree as the water stuck on his body.

Bringing a hand up to his face to wipe away the saliva, Sanshouuo smiled. "I must admit, you do pose a threat to me," he began. His voice was as croaky and unforgiving as ever. "But, you two are fire and water. Two complete opposites. Even if you try to work together, your attacks will interfere with each other. Therefore, you cannot work well enough to defeat me, let alone kill me."

Eric and Walter gave each other a short glance. "You're wrong!" Eric cried out. Walter was shocked at his teammate's outburst. Eric… he thought to himself. "We'll show you what real teamwork is! Right?" Eric turned to Walter, grinning a confident grin. Walter couldn't help but grin and nod back.

"Is that so?" their opponent doubted. "I'd like to see that…" he hissed. Eric and Walter readied themselves once more.

PoVS

Derek sighed as he dropped to his feet. "I can't keep going on like this," he told his two teammates as he brought a hand to the side of his face. He closed his eyes as he resisted moving completely. "I still can't believe you guys ate all the food in one day," he spoke with concealed, narrow eyes.

"Sorry, Derek-san," Dylan apologized. Dylan brought a hand to the back of his head to scratch his hair nervously. He smiled and chuckled, not knowing what else to do as he put his friendliest face on. A sweat drop grew on the side of his face. "If there's anything I can do for you, you just name it, because -" his words were suddenly cut off.

"Hey, hey!" Zack called out to Dylan. He put a mean look on as his hands were brought to his waist. "Why are you always so quick to apologize? You're too nice," Zack scorned him.

"You idiot," Derek said behind muffled hands. "If you were more like him I wouldn't be having such a hard time right now," he explained, getting up on his feet weakly. He seemed crankier than ever now that he hadn't had food for a day and a half. He should've eaten before they came here.

"What?" Zack began to shoot back. "I'm not an idiot! Why, you-" This time, Zack was the one who was cut off by Dylan. It was sort of like revenge. As Zack's voice calmed down, the silence came to again before Dylan spoke. The freshness of the forest never seemed fresh, and the sun began to glimmer off of everything. Derek sighed again, breathing in a big breath of fresh, soil air. Birds began to chirp before the snakes came to give their death, as if a punishment for singing the worst song.

"Wait," Dylan said quietly. He caught everyone's attention immediately. "Look," he pointed to a shadowy figure hiding behind a tree. It seemed to be eavesdropping on them. Derek scoffed. He was too weak and too tired to do anything about another enemy. He just found such a thing troublesome at the moment.

Zack scoffed as well. "I'll teach you to eavesdrop on us, you freak of nature!" Zack began to run to the tree where the figure was hiding. It seemed to react to him uneasily. Derek opened his eyes wide as he couldn't believe what Zack was trying to do. A confrontation from the front? Is he crazy? He soon realized that even if Zack was a bother to him all the time, he cared about him just like he did for every other Minor. He just didn't like to show that. That's what his parents taught him.

Zack neared the tree and began to drive a punch at the figure, who took the hit miserably. The figure came flying backward, surprised at the sudden hit. Zack was surprised that someone from the place they were in didn't think to dodge it. "Who… who are you?" the voice called out in fear, looking up at Zack with shuddering eyes. Zack's mouth hung wide open as he saw the appearance of the figure. It seemed to be a teenager, just about their age with blue hair, bangs at the side of his head like a decoration. The blue was a light blue, and not the crazy electric blue from those wild kids. He had white, innocent eyes as well, just like Minoa. He had a backpack slung on his back and an old style Japanese robe with a white garment underneath, just like the kind Dylan was wearing.

"Hey," Zack said, calmer this time. From far away, Derek wondered what was going on. He was too lazy to do anything with the shadows, no matter how much he motivated to. "You're not from here, are you?" Zack asked as he brought the teenager up to his feet. "Sorry about that punch. Who are you?"

"My name is Kawari-san," he told Zack, accepting his help immediately. They shook hands and Zack introduced himself as well. "But, you aren't from around here, either, are you?" Kawari asked Zack as he brought him out to meet Derek and Dylan.

Zack smiled. "We'll explain everything later," he told him. A few moments later, All four of them found themselves talking and explaining things to each other, and Derek just felt like he wanted to go to sleep. The sun seemed to die out as they talked out of its own boredom. It turned out Kawari was a societal danger locked up inside Swamp of Mystery, but soon after he realized his mistakes and he wanted to change. People rarely came by here to check up on them, but he hoped that one day they would let him out once they saw how much he changed.

"I see, so you guys are Minors?" Kawari asked. Dylan gave a friendly nod. He was always the one to bond closest first with others. He easily got along with new people, even if they were from Swamp of Mystery.

"Wait a minute," Derek said, his hand still muffling one half of his face. He continued to sit weakly at the trunk of a tree as he caught Kawari's attention. "How do we know you're not just tricking us before you sneak up on us and kill us?" Derek asked. Zack began to scold him for his rudeness. He acted so high and mighty all the time, it was funny.

"Oh no, I'm not going to do anything like that," Kawari said honestly, putting a hand behind his head nervously and waving his hand, indicating "no." Derek didn't buy it. Kawari could tell. "I can prove it," Kawari said. "Here, have these," he muttered as he shuffled his hands through his backpack and found three bento lunches. "A token of my appreciation for listening to me," he explained, chuckling nervously.

Derek gulped tensely. "Wow, great!" Zack smiled in awe. He took his boxed lunch and put it into the bag the Council had given them. "Oh, I forgot," Zack noted. "You might want yours now, Derek," Zack told his teammate with a smile, grinning evilly, poking the food at him. Derek stared comically, his eyes unable to lift from the rectangular treasure. He gulped hard, and then looked away, scoffing silently. He crossed his arms in front of him as he looked away meanly. You could tell that a slight blush was growing above his lips.

"Well, you're wrong," he said unstably. "I don't need food. I believe you anyway, Kawari."

Zack snickered. "Too tough to take something from someone else, eh, Derek?" he chuckled. Derek swallowed hard once more uneasily. He could feel his insides tense up.

"Shut up!" Derek shot at Zack, who continued to giggle harder and harder. He kept his arms crossed, continuing to look even more stiff as he looked away. Everyone laughed. Derek scoffed. "Whatever, I don't know how we're going to survive through this whole week though. We need to rest more, and there could be tons of others out there that could be stronger than us," Derek began, desperate to change the subject.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Kawari began. He drew everyone's attention closer to him. "You told me that you risked your own good for the succession of the plan against that glass girl, right, Dylan-san?" Kawari asked. Dylan nodded. He ran a finger to his own wound next to his heart and felt the pain shoot through his body. It hadn't faded yet. He remembered that moment, feeling the glass shards strike through his body and holding her glassy arm weakly, waiting for the roots to rise and take over her energy, smiling as the streak of blood came down the corner of his lips. "If you do things more often like that, if you show you're not afraid to show some pain and take a risk, then you guys can be okay. From the looks of it, it sounds like you Minors have a road that you are forced to take where you have to take down this White Cloak guy, right?"

Everyone nodded. "You're not going to beat him if you run away from pain. You confront it and act as if it's nothing. Blood should become a normal sight from now on. Wounds have the same relevance as a flower. You have to push yourself, no matter what condition you guys are in. Do you understand that?"

"I guess you're right," Dylan admitted to Kawari. "I guess that means I've been way ahead of you guys for a while now," he smiled. Zack denied it. Derek didn't seem to care. Suddenly, pain shot through Kawari's body. Damn it! He thought to himself, wincing as he clutched his side. Embracing is the hardest part to this process, he thought to himself. I found the wrong group as well, he realized. This isn't good. I'll have to stay from trouble for a while. Meanwhile, I'll have to deal with this pain. To think that I never knew the gold mine this place was. How stupid, Kawari thought as he clutched his side even more, the voices of chatting Minors filling his ears as he held back his cries of pain.

PoVS

What? Teresa thought as she turned around. She sensed a presence nearby. It had been lingering for a while now, and her violet eyes couldn't catch one figure hiding itself. It's like it's been stalking us ever since the first day, Teresa realized, turning back to the group. They sat cross-legged, having their breakfast before they got up to travel again. She hadn't touched a bit of her food.

Teresa thought to herself silently, watching Daniel and Kenneth fool around, shoving each other when they said something stupid. Their words were blank echoes in the back of Teresa's mind. She just paid attention to how much fun they had. She smiled lightly. It must be fun to have someone so close to you, she thought. Suddenly, as if a reminder, she had a flashback that rid her of her current feelings about connections. She remembered the pain and the agony she had to go through because of the bond she had, because of the closeness with someone else. The sudden memory caused pain for Teresa, giving her a sudden shock from the past. She cried out in shock as her body weakened, wanting to curl up into a ball and call away the memories.

She remembered her friends lying in pools of their own blood, staring up accusingly as if she had done something wrong. She remembered having their blood caked on her face, and that axe glimmering in the faint moonlight, lying in between her teeth with fresh blood on its blade. She remembered the face of that ghost, the ghost she couldn't see now because she lacked something, something she didn't know. For now, she had lost her abilities to see spirits. She had lost her family's legacy. She held back the need to throw up, fighting off wave after wave of nauseating energy.

"Teresa, are you okay?" Daniel noticed her in pain, stopping his conversation with his brother. He wondered if he should care for her.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Teresa said weakly, bringing her head back up. She swallowed the nausea down as she fought away the painful memories. Her weak lie seemed to satisfy Daniel. This creepy feeling… Teresa thought to herself. It's too familiar. Behind her, a light gust of wind blew by, carrying dead, blackish leaves away to their funeral. The whistling of the breeze filled her ears with eeriness. I can still hear their screams in my head… Teresa realized as she fought the cries away. In front of her, her wrapped plate of food and her thermos of tea remained untouched. The open thermos let out hot, steamy air like a trail of temptation, the brown liquid just waiting for lips to delicately take it away into another world.

Eric… Teresa suddenly remembered. Were your words helpful enough? She thought, remembering his helpful grin and his protective eyes. I wonder… who are you helping now? She wondered, peering to the trees. They swayed lightly as the winds carried their leaves away.


	67. Chapter 67

"Eating dango on a perfect morning like this," Lance sighed staring up at the sky. He had his arms behind his head in a carefree manner as he closed his eyes in a comfortable rest. He folded his legs boyishly, playing with the dango skewer with his teeth. The sweet, sugary treat began to slump downward towards his mouth. "Reminds me of the old times," he said, ignoring the soil scent of the tree behind him. The air was cool and filled with easiness. Sunlight was flustered through the trees and their leaves. Its warmth wrapped around Lance's face as it caressed him toward a sleep.

"Lance, shouldn't you be resting your body?" Rick frowned. "We just got the poison out of you," he explained.

"I am, I am!" Lance snapped at his teammate, frowning as his eyes went into a disdainful look. Rick was acting like such a parent. Parents are boring, Lance thought. They always take away the fun. Rick continued to frown from his place on the soft grass. It seemed to carry a smell that was refreshing. He reluctantly accepted Lance's answer.

Marissa sat loathsomely as she stared at her food. Her arms felt like they had been clumped together for hours, like they had been misplaced in her body. Uneasiness wrapped around her like a blanket on a cold winter night. A creeping chill entered her body as a soft breeze blew by. Her brown-blonde hair seemed to be fixed while the rest of her body wasn't… right. She sat uneasily, too, sitting on her legs as they spread out behind her. My arm hurts, she told herself. So does the rest of my body. It's hard to even catch a breath now and I tire easily, she noted. Just what happened back there? She peered backward, as if searching for a clue to the past. All I know was that I was knocked unconscious. I'm lucky I'm not dead, she told herself, turning back. She stared at her food. Emptiness stared back. The food seemed barely fitting, and that healthy tea was supposed to help her get back the easiness in her body, but it didn't seem to have an effect at all. She sighed deeply as she continued to think.

Lance, skin caked with dirt and completely worn out found it very pleasing to lie down like he did. A pleased smile spread across his face as he at the last dango piece, which was swallowed easily only a second later. He sighed, waiting for the energy to come back to his legs. He felt like a hundred tons right now. As he felt the sweet dango fall into his stomach with a plop, pain suddenly shot through his whole body. It was like a disease, eating away at everything it could. It took him away from his tranquil state, taking him away from the broad sunlight and the whispering leaves. It took him away from the fresh grass smell and into a world of short yet wild pain. He gagged as the empty skewer was lost from his lips, clinking to the floor beside him as he jerked up, trying to catch his breath. Slowly, he breathed the pain away, restraining it.

Rick noticed his sudden agony. He sighed. "Jeez," he began, looking back to Marissa. "You guys need to take care of yourselves more," he scolded them. He got up from the comfortable grass, brushing dirt off his clothes. He picked up some tea from the floor and brought it to his two teammates. "Here," he handed it to them. Lance took it mindlessly, not noticing his own actions. Marissa seemed to stare up at him, as if resisting taking it.

"But…" Marissa began. "It's your tea," she told him. Rick smiled thankfully, but he insisted. She took the hot teacup rather uneasily. The hot, white steam masked her face in comfort. Rick never failed to surprise her with his unselfishness.

"It's okay," he told her. "You guys need more rest than I do," Rick told them, walking to the trees away from them. "I'll just go train. Shout if something happens," he told them, walking away.

"Rick," Lance called him without looking at him as he began to walk away. Rick pulled back to wait attentively. "Don't overdo it," Lance said seriously, wrapping his arms around his body, as if he was suddenly cold. "You'll attract enemies, and furthermore, you can't tire yourself out too much until we've rested up. Understand?"

"Yeah, got it," Rick said, pulling back to the trees. His footsteps crunched the grass as if his slippers hated the green blades as he faded away from sight. Marissa watched his back as he disappeared into nothing but a dot in the brisk distance. Why am I the one always watching your back? Marissa thought as she gulped uneasily. She sighed deeply. Everyone's worked so hard lately, while I haven't made any progress at all. She stared off into the bushes depressively as she found a set of grinning, glowing eyes gazing back at her. Her face went wide with comicalness as she gulped hard, nervous. Animated sweat drops began to pour down like a waterfall at her head.

Suddenly, the pair of eyes rushed out and out came something small – a hungry squirrel craving for food. "Squirrel?" she screeched as it ran towards her. Oh my god, oh my god, she thought. A squirrel! What should I do? Should I hide? No, there's no time! She screamed loudly in her mind. She couldn't seem to move her legs. The squirrel sort of chirped at her cutely before jumping on her face in an affectionate hug. She began screaming indistinctively, moving her body around and around, trying to get it off of her. Her arms were at her sides, fanning like a pair of wings wanting to escape. Her eyes were wide and blank as she thought of the millions of germs and bacteria she could get from having an animal from a place like this on her face. She also worried for her face. Oh, how she loved her face. She tripped over to her side as she knocked the tea down accidentally with her swinging leg. She fell to her back, the squirrel apparently thinking that it was a ride of some sort, having the time of its life. Together, they rolled down the long slope they had climbed up earlier, leaving Lance alone.

The Metal Minor sighed as he put his arms behind his head again. "I can't believe you wasted tea," he muttered, taking out another dango skewer and placing it in his teeth. His voice was muffled by a full mouth.

Rick walked cautiously through the foresting trees, their crooked bodies like mutated hates full of anger. Branches' fingers brushed against his cheeks, scratching him, as if trying to tell him to stop. He found a small clearing in the forest, an open space surrounded by trees with nothing but dead grass waiting for the angel of death. Rick seemed satisfied as he came to the middle, shifting his stance and closing his eyes in preparation. I need to work hard, he told himself. I have to show that the things I care for matter. So they won't feel left out. With that thought, he began to get to work on his new "idea."

PoVS

It seems that the water brat is kind of confident about himself, Sanshouuo realized as Walter came to him, giving him various punches, all being blocked skillfully. Impact blows were sounded through the quiet forest as Sanshouuo continued to multitask. It's true that my weakness is damp areas, but it all depends on the amount of moisture it takes to take me out, he thought, bobbing to the side to dodge a punch, giving a hard hit back, sending the Minor backward.

Eric rushed to Sanshouuo, ready for his turn. Sanshouuo ducked and dodged and backed away as Eric's threatening attacks all missed. On the other hand, this one is stupid enough to protect his teammates during battle. That's why he's more worn out than the other one, Sanshouuo noted. However, his levels of stamina continue to amaze me. He must have a reason he's holding his friends so dearly. However, people like that go down first. The shield is always used as a tool, after all. Sanshouuo warded him away with a blast of heat from his mouth. It burned the surrounded grass to blackish ash. Yellow green became dreadful dust. The wind picked up smoothly, a light breeze for comfort. It carried the tortured ashes away with it. "Hey," Sanshouuo called to Walter.

He caught his attention immediately. Walter's heavy breathing seemed to be drowned out by the other nonexistent sounds in the forest. Sunlight continued to pour on the scene, yet its source not visible in the sky. "It's true that you bear my weakness element," Sanshouuo began to tell him. "However, it takes a large amount of it to wipe out someone like me. Also, I know this part of the forest very well geographically. There isn't a source of water even if you dug downward for five days and five nights straight," Sanshouuo explained. "The only source of water you can use is the water content of your body, which is sixty percent of your total weight. Even if you used all of it against me and made direct hits each time, you still wouldn't be able to beat me. Also, if you lose even one to two percent of the water in your body, you become very tired. At that point, you won't be able to fight me without slowing down, and at that rate, you'll get killed first." Sanshouuo smiled as he explained, knowing his advantage. "Give up," he told finally. "You're not good enough to defeat me."

Walter grinned meanly. "We'll see about that," he threatened. It might be true what he's saying, Walter acknowledged. However, there's more than one way to beat any opponent. Water is just one of them for this one. Eric nodded in agreement, as if he was reading his thoughts. Although… Walter had to admit. I am somewhat tired all ready. I better not make this battle long. Eric suddenly rushed past him, reeling in his attack. He shouted his angry battle cry as his impact was blocked by the forearm of his opponent.

"My, my," Sanshouuo began playing with his tongue again. No smile grew on his face this time. Just glaring, serious eyes. "You're the dangerous one, aren't you?" he realized. Sanshouuo sighed. "Whatever," he brushed it off like nothing.

Eric gritted his teeth, clenching his fist tightly into a balled anger. "Now, Walter!" he cried out. Sanshouuo was immediately surprised, looking backward to find nothing.

"What?" Sanshouuo cried out. He scanned the whole area behind him. He couldn't find anyone. He looked past Eric. He couldn't find him either. What was going on?

"You don't have time to look away!" Eric shouted, the same words Sanshouuo had said when the battle had begun. His words shocked his opponent immediately as Eric delivered a hardcore punch to the unsuspecting enemy, knocking him backward as he stopped the push with his tail dug right into the ground. He wiped his chin roughly, frowning disdainfully.

"Tricky bastard," he muttered under his breath. Eric scoffed. "I'll teach you to mess with me," Sanshouuo told him seriously. With a rush, he immediately appeared at Eric's front, hitting him with swift kicks, all barely dodged at the last second. His speed, Eric realized. It's gotten faster! He ducked and backed away, trying to deliver his own attacks, which were even swiftly cancelled.

Soon, Sanshouuo locked his fist between his two arms, keeping him in place. Eric gritted his teeth, trying to get his arm out of the hold. It was too hard. He had to make another round of attacks in that position! Eric tried another punch, which was blocked by an open hand. His two hands unavailable to use now, Eric struggled to get away as Sanshouuo grinned at his advantage. Eric's teeth seemed to grow angry fangs. "Now, Walter!" he repeated again in his sticky situation.

Sanshouuo scoffed loudly. "Are you serious?" he said, his voice lowering. "You really think you can trick me again?! I'm smarter than that! Don't mock me, boy!" Sanshouuo shouted, not turning back to fall for his trick again. An evil grin grew across his face as a confident one grew on Eric's. From behind, a shadow began to fall upon Sanshouuo's back. From above, Walter jumped from the trees, reeling in a powerful punch as he came closer and closer, his shadow growing darker and darker on the opponent, who still didn't seem to notice until –

Walter cried out. Eric's eyes widened in shock. "Much, much smarter than that," Sanshouuo muttered strongly in Eric's face, bringing the boy closer to him with a tug. He stared into the teenager's eyes evilly with an intellectual grin as behind him, Walter was wrapped around in a slithering, slimy tail. The tail of their opponent. He was tightly constricted, unable to move at all. Walter seemed to grip the tail tightly, trying to claw his way out of it. His fingers kept slipping off of the waxy skin. It was completely abnormal. Reeling in a punch, Sanshouuo knocked Eric right in his mouth and nose, pushing him at least ten feet away.

"Eric!" Walter cried out. He gritted his teeth as he realized even more that he couldn't do anything. Blood began to leak from Eric's mouth as well, caking his cheeks as he lay on the floor weakly, unable to stand up. As he moved uneasily around the ground, his eyes closed in pain, trying to push it backward, Walter realized his red strip of fabric that indicated he was the Fire Base Minor was missing from his index finger. Walter looked at his hand's pinkie to make sure he still had his. Then, Walter found it lying on the floor limply, getting dirt all over it. It must've gotten off his finger when he got that punch, Walter realized. "Damn it!" Walter cried out.

"You're too noisy," Sanshouuo grinned as he turned back to meet Walter with one side of his face. Walter calmed as the tail tightened around him, its slimy, discolored skin nauseating even more when it wrapped tighter and tighter around you. Walter cried out in pain as the tail constricted him. His cries couldn't be helped. Inside his shouts came his anger of his past, the pain all sent through in screams as he thought the tail was going to break his spinal column. I can't breathe! Walter thought to himself as he paused his screaming, breathing heavily to catch his breath. He kept breathing and breathing, but no matter how hard he tried, his breath just didn't seem to be found. He let out a loud cry again as the tail wrapped tighter. "I told you, you're too noisy!" Sanshouuo told him. Walter resumed his heavy breathing, gritting his teeth in anger at the overwhelming power of his foe.

With a swing of his large tail, Sanshouuo sent Walter flying towards Eric. The Water Minor crashed into a tree, his back hitting hard against its body, falling back down limply as if he had just been brutally murdered. Walter looked up slightly, catching a glimpse of the fabric strip that had the Japanese character of fire on it. He began to reach for it weakly, his abdomen completely in murderous pain. He coughed out as his hand fell limp to the floor, his efforts nothing compared to the searing hurt. Suddenly, he began to hear hissing. Hissing all around him. Left, right, forward, and behind. What…? Walter thought as he looked up disdainfully, wincing his pain backward. His sight was blurred from the pain he felt all over. He wasn't sure if any of his bones weren't broken anymore. Things seemed to shake and shiver coldly in his eyes, his halfhearted, barely opened eyes. He tried to move his fingers closer to it, but only his fingers obeyed his command.

"Don't try to move," Sanshouuo told him. Walter pulled back his hand, stammering uneasily. Sanshouuo scoffed at his weak appearance. "I've surrounded your position with a highly sensitive heat layer. Any kind of friction other than wind will set it off into a huge level explosion. It'll surely blow you to bits," he explained. "You won't even lay a finger on that layer unless the last thing you want to see is black smoke and bursting red."

Walter obeyed reluctantly, falling to the trunk of the tree. His legs seemed broken and uneasy, lying in front of him lazy and unable to do anything. Dirt and uneasiness covered him like a shroud. He tried to move at least his arm, but it struggled violently, unable to obey commands. Walter stared up to the sky to find the rustling leaves of trees as the winds slightly moved them in a short dance. The leaves differentiated in their greens, sunlight gleaming some as they swayed lazily. Walter continued to breathe heavily, the only thing he could do at the moment. I…I can't do anything anymore, he thought to himself. I'm going to die here… this guy… he's too dangerous. We can't beat him! His experience and how much he's used to this kind of thing – it surpasses ours by way too much. There's no hope for us! We have to run! We have to run now! Walter's panic took over his mind and body. He couldn't move, and all he could do was stay there and think all these crazy thoughts. His pupils shuddered in their eyes; his expression was tight with worry and anxiety.

Suddenly, his purpose reminded him. Reminded him of everything he was here for and what he was working for at the end. It took away all his panic and replaced it with the memory of his suffering. It took away the anxiety and the need to run away. Slowly, his eyes fell back into place. His body began to calm as well as his mind, and he relaxed his muscles, enveloping himself in his thoughts.

He remembered seeing his mother with that fabric tightened around her neck, dangling from the ceiling mysteriously like a ghastly force was suspending her upward. He remembered watching her blanked expression for hours, her accusing stare trying to blame her son for his problems. He remembered the pouring, bloodied rain that ran down his cheeks, his nose, wet his clothes until they were soaked, drowned his hopes for the future and dried them up into nothing but drought field. He remembered his father's last words to the family before he had passed, those harsh, hurtful words. He remembered the journal that his aunt had carelessly let lay around the house, just waiting to be found by Walter and his unsuspecting mind. Those scribbled, psychotic words of Void Core that he had stolen with him, that he had went back to take with him. He remembered feeling the rain as he was bound to torture, his only companion that blanketed him in cooling calmness as the hot anger spread around him, the tension of his insides growing unbearable. The scars unbearable. The dreadful scars he had to carry on his back for the rest of his life.

He realized that his parents – his uncle and aunt, they were all the same. They did nothing to help him, nothing to lead him in such a way to lead a good goal. They left him with nothing for a goal but revenge. Revenge for Void Core, the badness that swept over his life like a stormy cloud full of red rain. That was his prize at hand. And nothing could take his eyes away from it. Not even the strongest connection with a new friend, or the strongest opponent. Yes, he knew everything now. His eyes were wide open.

Walter lied silently against the trunk of the tree as he waited for something big, something huge to come to him. Sanshouuo paced past him, ignoring him completely in his disregard. His slithering tail was his only weapon at the moment, and he grew a careful, narrowed gaze of hate as he neared Eric. He was soon past Walter, but he only kept his eyes on the one he found more amusing right now. He watched Eric struggle to get up, blood streaking down his face like a river. He couldn't open his eyes because of his weary panic. His senses were blurry, completely clouded. Panic and confusion wrapped around Eric. "Unmoving prey," Sanshouuo called Eric as he came closer to Walter, who seemed as dead as the starless night. Sanshouuo scoffed. "How easy to catch," he muttered to himself.

"Damn it, you freakin' bastard!" Walter shouted out suddenly, a burst of energy churning his facial expression. His features tightened as he gritted his teeth demonically. His eyes were widened stare seemed to have no pupils, the brown gaze so small yet the whiteness so large. His fists were bursting with energy as well now, and his outbreak caused something to snap in his mind. Anger came about him, and he immediately caught Sanshouuo's energy. "I'll kill you!" Walter screamed demonically. Sanshouuo scoffed. Then his scoff turned into a surprised gasp as the unthinkable happened.

"W-Walter…?" Eric muttered, his voice unstable. His senses were still clouded and he could barely notice anything. The only thing he noticed was the loud, evil sound of Walter's screams. W-What's going on? Eric thought as he masked his face with one hand's fingers, feeling the blood streak down them like its own prevailing mask.


	68. Chapter 68

"Get away from him!" Walter shouted loudly as anger burst from his cries like lava from a volcano.

"No way!" Sanshouuo took in a sharp gasp of shock. His eyes widened as the setting seemed to become pale with a bright light. The whiteness wiped away all the surroundings as things seemed to react in slow motion, a pain, slowed motion. Sanshouuo's mouth pulled open like an open register. Blood spit out with a splash horridly as he ducked his head slowly. This surreal world seemed more untrue than any other. Pain shot through his chest as he pulled back, time slowing that down as well. His eyes were peeled wide open like oranges.

If you watched from a full point of view, you would be shocked. Walter had his fist at Sanshouuo's right side as he had his head jerked towards the floor. His body was still getting used to that burst of energy, and he pushed the fist backward, forcing more pain into his enemy's body. Sanshouuo gagged. Suddenly, the whiteness surrounding them began to fade, and the paleness soon returned the trees while the bleakness pushed back the skies and the emptiness churned into dirt.

"What…?" Sanshouuo muttered to himself. His voice was weak as the comfortable feeling of the sun left him. "How?" he said bleakly, no tone to his voice. The sound barely came from his lips as redness leaked out of them, light pain searing through his body like a poison. How- how did he escape the heat? Sanshouuo asked himself, peering slightly to the tree where he had been held back towards. Hotness still shook the air as it made a light layer over the ground. He shouldn't have been able to escape it…

Walter continued to breathe hard, catching his breathe for just a moment. He got himself ready to explain, the anger still pulsing at his temples, his heart racing, pummeling against his ribcage from the inside. It felt as if he was ready to implode. "It wasn't hard," Walter began, his voice strong and confident, cool and calm. "Actually, I all ready told you how I did it," Walter explained.

"What?!" Sanshouuo cried out in disbelief. "Don't kid around, brat!" he demanded quickly. His voice encouraged the pain rushing in his body. He had almost coughed out another splotch of red.

"I told you before, didn't I?" Walter told him, close to the floor as the icy dagger he held in his hand dug deeper into Sanshouuo's body. Walter grinned carefully as he narrowed his eyes. They both had the same flashback at the same time.

_"Water is one of the most malleable materials on earth," Walter had said. "It can slither and defend me from any situation, just like your body."_

"I changed my body into a watery substance that let me remain in control and the rest of my body functions but with my flesh, skin, and bone as water," Walter explained. "Using that, I was able to rush past the friction sensitive field without touching it." Walter dug the ice dagger deeper as his words progressed. Time's running out for you, Walter told him secretively in his thoughts.

"I see," Sanshouuo realized. "You're a smart one," he complimented. "But… now that you've stabbed me once, what are you going to do now?!" Sanshouuo laughed, taking his arm and smacking Walter with it once, sending him flying to his teammate's side.

Getting up, Walter wiped his chin to prepare himself. His feet sort of stumbled as they picked up. "Now," Walter began weakly. "I prove to the world that I _can_ become strong enough to achieve my goal." Sanshouuo flashed an unknowing look. That wasn't surprising. He knew nothing about Walter, yet picked him as an opponent.

Eric peered to his side, wiping away the blood from the wounds on his head. His brown eyes found Walter's hand at his side, tightly gripped around something red, like a stripped ribbon. The Fire Minor breathed quickly in a flash of surprise. No way! He looked to his right hand to look for his Base Minor cloth strip. It wasn't there. He has it, Eric realized, looking back to Walter's hand on all fours. That's why he made a direct contact with Sanshouuo, though? Just to get my Minor Strip? Walter began to help Eric up to his feet. The Fire Minor stammered also as he struggled upward.

"Here," Walter handed Eric the strip. Eric just seemed to stare at it dully, his eyes narrowed in a suspicious way. "What?" Walter snapped. His eyes were narrow as well as he scoffed. "Here!" he demanded. Eric took it solemnly. Walter sighed. It was so weird. First, Walter's this guy who risks his own body to get one possession of Eric's, and now he's snapping at him.

Eric got to his feet, feeling the energy return to his legs. That last blow he took really sucked out a lot out of him. He wiped away some blood and dirt away from his face again and stared hard at their opponent. "Eric," Walter began again, his voice calmer. He caught his attention immediately. "I'm sorry for the lonely, obsessed person I used to be who just kept to myself," Walter explained. Eric seemed shocked at his words. He put a serious lock on his face. Was this the real Walter? "Now, I realize that my goal in life will benefit others, not just me. That loneliness that you have, you're trying to defeat it, aren't you?"

Eric widened his eyes. How did he know? Eric tightened his fist at his side. Why is he helping me with my problems? Eric asked himself, his clenched hand too tight for comfort. He looked down at the floor in a kind of shame. I should be the one helping the ones I care about! "Then," Walter continued. "Let's prove we can beat it by defeating this guy first. Although, I still believe in almost all the things I used to, so don't think I'm changing all that much."

Eric scoffed. "Whatever," he told him, changing his stance to ready himself. Eric grinned as he finally knew for sure he made a connection with Walter.

"The purpose to your life is to protect those you care for," Walter told Eric. "The purpose in mine is to get revenge. I'll let you know one thing right now, Eric," he told him. Eric listened, turning slightly towards his teammate. "Nothing's going to stop me from getting that revenge and destroying that pain," Walter made sure Eric listened. He narrowed his eyes suddenly as his gaze went nowhere near Eric. "Friendships will not get in the way. I'll kill you if _you _ever try to get in the way."

Eric took a deep breath to clear his mind and closed his eyes for a second. He then turned completely forward. "I understand," he replied dully. He took the Minor Strip and tied it around his index finger again, the ends of it raggedy and torn. Tiny holes were punctured through them like a memoir to keep of this moment. He didn't so much agree with the idea of revenge, but he knew that this was Walter's only proof of his own survival. He couldn't take something like that away from him.

Walter turned completely serious now, just like he had always been. His brown, secretive eyes were narrowed in a mean stare as his lips were tightly sealed together in a sworn protection. He changed his stance as Eric followed. "Let's get this piece of shit out of our way," Walter suggested. Eric nodded as they separated their legs more, readying themselves to the fullest extent.

Sanshouuo scoffed loudly. He practically burst laughing for a second. "Who do you think you are?" he asked them. "Cut with the damned drama and fight me, you worthless fool!" Sanshouuo demanded.

Walter's features remained calm yet somewhat tightened. Eric couldn't believe it. His motivation… Eric thought. Where did it come from? Is this really the Walter I tried to get to know? "You…" Walter accused Sanshouuo. "You don't know anything about pain! So I'll show it to you!" Walter threatened. Sanshouuo felt challenged, happy at that fact. Walter suddenly flashed in front of the enemy, sending kicks and punches all over in such a creative and not wasteful way, it was hard to believe that this was his real fighting style. "I'll kill you with physical attacks," Walter told Sanshouuo as he flipped over him, trying to land low kicks. "I don't need to use my Half Spirit against you."

"That's a big threat from someone so weak," Sanshouuo muttered, grinning evilly. He bobbed his head to dodge attacks and put arms in front of him just in case. Walter seemed to disappear and reappear from every direction, all his speedy attacks blocked. Eric gulped. Walter was moving so fast, he wasn't making any openings for Eric to come in.

"Is that so?" Walter continued to shoot back. Walter reappeared at Sanshouuo's front and tried to land a round kick. Sanshouuo slithered away into the air. Walter disappeared again, looking more confident.

Sanshouuo waited in the air. "I told you all ready, you can't beat me!" he cried out loudly in the air. Eric wondered if he should attack. But he felt like Walter had a plan in store that he shouldn't ruin. Sanshouuo had to admit. That water-controlling brown eyed kid really did get stronger to a great degree. He truthfully didn't know if he could keep blocking his physical attacks any longer than two minutes without getting hit eventually.

Suddenly, Walter appeared behind Sanshouuo in the air in a flash, reappearing with his stern look on his face. Sanshouuo cried out as he realized what had just happened .There was no time to run away, though. Quickly, Walter wrapped his arms around Sanshouuo's neck and both of them began to crash down with Walter closer to the surface. Sanshouuo scoffed. "Fool, if we crash down, you're the one that's going to take the hit, idiot!" Sanshouuo laughed. Walter wasn't so sure.

"I told you I'd beat you with physical attacks, didn't I?" Walter told Sanshouuo as they continued to fall from such a high distance, it didn't look like both of them were going to survive. Suddenly, Walter backed into Sanshouuo closer, now both of their feet direction layered, Walter's feet beneath Sanshouuo's in the same position. Sanshouuo gasped as he realized he was about to be taken into a technique. Walter's arms still tightly locked around his enemy's neck, he pulled out two icy needles that he grew from the back of his shoulder and stabbed them into Sanshouuo's body. He cried out as he let out a cough of blood spill into the air. Walter winced as some of it got onto his skin.

"Damn it!" Sanshouuo cried out in pain. His lips were leaking blood from his mouth. "What are you doing?!" he demanded.

"You'll find out soon enough!" Walter shot back. With full strength, Walter pulled the two needles out and threw them towards Sanshouuo's feet. The two prickles struck right through both of them and right through Walter's own feet as well. Sanshouuo's eyes widened in shock. He stabbed his own feet, too? Sanshouuo thought in panic as wind rushed upward. What is this guy trying to do? Next, Walter took his hands and put them on top of Sanshouuo's palms, creating water needles that stabbed from his hand and into his hands as well. Specks of blood spilled out from the wound. Walter grinned. "Now you can't run away," he told him. Blood began to spill into a puddle in Walter's hand. He gritted his teeth to wash the pain away. As they neared the surface by the second, Walter announced the attack. "Maina Mizu: Fukai-Umi Haritsuke! –Minor Waters: Deep-Sea Crucifixion!-"

"What?" the opponent cried out as he heard the name of the attack. "You're not going to-" Sanshouuo's words were cut off by a loud crashing of impact against the hard, forest ground. Dust was blown into every direction possible, a giant wave of power that took a long time to wash away. Eric had to cover his eyes with his arms, keeping his eyes only half open as the driving dust and power fluttered his clothes wildly. Chunks of rock and dirt blasted into the air from the force, falling down like hailing memoirs into little pieces. A huge cloud of gray dust piled against the sky. The trees rustled loudly in protestation as the winds calmed.

"Walter!" Eric cried out. Where did he go? Did he really…? No! Eric found Walter at the corner of his eye hovering high in the sky, watching the smoke clear. Dust caked his face and so did pain.

Suspended towards the sky, Walter coughed into his own arm, wincing as he did so. It's true that I took impact as well since the plan was to turn into water and wisp away at the last nanosecond before we hit the ground, but I'm sure that that guy took at least ten times more damage. However, my back still does hurt, and I can't perform as well as I used to any longer, Walter warned himself. He knew how crazy he could get when he got angry. That anger always tapped into the deep anger he held inside him. No matter, Walter told himself. I'll finish it with the final move. "One thing you were wrong about my water abilities used from my own body," Walter began as he found sight of his opponent. Sanshouuo lay uncomfortably and limply in a large crack dented into the forest surface, tiny pebbles and rocky boulders surrounding him as his body was pushed in the deepest possible. His limbs stuck out like dead sticks. His eyes remained half-open with bare attention. "Was that whenever I use it, I lose a percentage of my total body water," Walter continued. "But, that's not the case if I use it like this, is it?" Walter asked, turning his right arm into a water form of it.

Sanshouuo seemed to cry out in surprise. Walter grinned. "Tch," he began. "You're standing in the way of me and my revenge," Walter told him. "Because of that, you're going to die!" Walter shouted as his arm zoomed downward and took over Sanshouuo's body. With a pull, the arm brought the lizard-like being upward, and was reeled in for a punch. The fist hit him hard against the middle of his face, sending him flying once more in a type of midair cartwheel to the forest floor. Walter's aquatic arm contracted as he prepared for the final move. With a jolt, he drop kicked him from his place high in the sky, the heel of his foot digging straight into Sanshouuo's stomach. He yelled out as Sanshouuo's arms were hanging limply in the air, unable to move or operate. They both crashed into the ground as more dust and collision sounds spread outward, sending them to the sky. The cloudy dust began to block the sunlight.

Wow… Eric thought to himself, blocking his face again for protection. This guy… he really became that strong out of his confidence to get his revenge for his past? Then… he really was serious when he said he would kill me if I ever got in his way…

Walter soon found himself walking out of the cloud of smoke, his limbs weak and dragging behind him as he stumbled on his own feet. His breath was heavy like a million tons and dust hissed all around him with tired marks all over his skin. He fell to the floor against a tree near the rising smoke. He couldn't find himself to walk any longer. He just sat there, breathing the hardest he could so he could catch his breath. The breath never seemed to be found. Eric rushed to his need, bringing his arm about his shoulders again. "You're always rescuing me," Walter muttered into Eric's ear weakly. His voice was crackly.

Eric smiled. "I told you why, didn't I? You're really going to make me repeat it again?" Eric said as he put Walter down against another tree. He took the sack that contained the food and other necessities out and began to treat Walter's wounds with ointment.

"You think he's dead?" Walter asked, one eye closed in a light wince as the other one made its best effort to stay open. His chest kept rising and falling as his wide, open mouth kept taking heavyset inhales.

"I don't know," Eric said solemnly as he took out the roll of bandages from the bag. Walter sighed, the last move tiresome as he watched the light gusts of the forest brush away the smoke.

PoVS

"Die!" Gaia told Mark as he threw a sharpened piece of clay toward Mark. Mark dodged it to his right as he slid towards a tree. A frontal attack? Mark thought to himself. Is he crazy trying a move like that? It has no skill to begin with.

Suddenly, Mark realized it. He peered to his left and saw the incoming sharpened clay. A trap! He told himself urgently. He jumped away just in time as the thunking noise against the body of the tree echoed through the morning. It was like they were knocking on a random house's door for a next victim. No one answered. Mark slid into another direction, dragging his feet with the dust in the area. The Earth Minor sighed as he jumped backward into the forest, jumping onto a tree's limb for a short time of rest. He jumped back to another one until he was far enough away from Gaia.

Gaia scoffed. "Going into long distance, eh?" he muttered. Mark put an uneasy, disdainful look as he gritted his teeth lightly. "Finally run out of energy?" Gaia asked with the least bit of considerateness. He scoffed once more. "You made a big mistake," he told the Earth Minor loudly. I should probably use Mode, but brother would probably call me "too hasty," again. A smirking grin grew on Gaia's lips. Oh, well. I'll hold it back for now. "You'll regret choosing to go into long distance with me, kid!" Gaia shouted playfully. He clapped his hands together as he prepared his attack. The dirt in the ground seemed to emerge like wild beasts ready for their next meal. "Chiri Nadare! –Dirt Avalanche!-"

More dirt seemed to pile upward towards the weakened Minor as he narrowed his eyes at his luck. He stared hard at the pillars of dirt as they bulleted towards him, and prepared himself, watching the immense amounts of dirt from all over head toward him.

PoVS

"It's been a long time since he went down," Walter told Eric at his side. "He should be dead by now. It'll be amazing if he's not."

"Yeah," Eric said, lying down against the same tree as Walter. He rested himself too. Eric had put ointment on his head wound and bandaged it up. He sighed as he brushed dirt off his clothes. Now they could finally rest.

Both of them stared at the sun above them, now finally beginning to show its stuff as it poured its pale light onto the cold, darkish forest. It was about time. The dark corners of the area could use some light. They both imaged their lives at the same time once they've reached their goal, and to some scale to their serious, calm selves, they smiled. A confident yet weak grin growing on Eric's face, and a careful, satisfied grin with narrowed eyes on Walter's.

Suddenly, disturbing their pleasant fantasies came a loud explosion. Blurring redness and black smoke rose into the air. High winds began to spread around the area, flustering Walter's clothes and hair. "No way!" Walter choked out, the forcing winds making it hard to speak. He had to put an arm in front of him. Eric did the same. How can he still be alive?! I can't do anything about him. I can't even attack well anymore. My body's too weak! All we can do now is run away!

From the rising smoke came a blackish figure of Sanshouuo. His arms dragged at his side limply, weak and tired. His head was bowed in a sort of respectful yet hateful way as he slithered outward from the concealing smoke. He wore a gritted grin between his lips as he stared up at the two unprepared Minors. His hair was ashy and dust-dirt made a sort of costume or wrapping around him. "Damn it," he muttered to himself loudly so that the two Minors could hear him. These guys have become so strong in such a short notice, he thought to himself. At this rate, I'll have to use it. Sanshouuo let out a forced laugh of excitement as he let the seal break inside his body, letting all the power rush throughout his blood. "I never thought I would ever have to use this form of me against you two," Sanshouuo began. "But, in this case, it looks like I very much have to."

Eric helped Walter up as both stumbled on his feet, watching Sanshouuo with narrowed, careful eyes. With head bowed and gaze locked on the Minors, Sanshouuo began to force out Mode. Suddenly, his skin tone suddenly became slightly darker as two bones emerged from the right side of his back. One bone connected to the other, the larger one making like a spider leg kind of limb. The bony, wing like structure thing continued to grow out of his body until it actually looked like a wingless wing, if such a thing would exist. Sanshouuo closed his eyes as power surged throughout him, his teeth growing into demonic fangs. He opened his eyes with a burst, and suddenly, the dark, ebony eyes Eric and Walter always found themselves staring into became painted with the deviance of red, red like the bloody moon, and wide open with excitement.

"What…" Eric began. "What is that?" Fear surged through his blood as he watched the transformation slowly complete itself, feeling wave after wave of nausea hit against him like the beach's ocean currents. They seemed to be overwhelming, his body barely able to hold them back. The two Minors continued to watch his metamorphosis as grayish dust seemed to pool at Sanshouuo's sides eerily, gray-brown dust rising behind him to create a powerful, dramatic background.

"Now…" Sanshouuo went on. Legs began to grow out of from between his tail, human shaped legs like any other you would have seen. "All that's left is to find him…. To find Gaia," Sanshouuo muttered loudly. At the mention of the other one's name, Eric and Walter knew that this was when the _real_ serious battle began.


	69. Chapter 69

The sun was eerily shaded over by the thickening smoke, wisps of dust lifting high in the air. Hissing intensified the moment as Walter watched Sanshouuo with weak, resistant eyes. His teeth were trembling for a reason he couldn't seem to find. Nor could he think straight. His mind was completely clouded, just like the clouds of smoke blocked the sun. Walter watched as Sanshouuo's wounds began to heal, the three stabs he made on his torso withering away into skin like something godly had erased it. He could feel his intense energy fill the air thickly, and the scratches and tired marks on his body turn back to normal.

Walter stared hard, refusing to give up to a freak like him – because if he did, that would mean he was weaker than him. If he was weaker than him, then he's weaker than everything else he wanted to get at. This guy… Walter thought. What's with him? I can feel his strife to kill all over the air. It's lingering on the trees, the smoke, everything, he thought as Eric carefully helped him up. His feet felt sort of weak, and his back was still hurting from that combat move he made. "This guy is dangerous," Eric told him lightly in a whisper. "We have to get out of here."

Walter gritted his teeth in resistance. He narrowed his eyes as he denied what was happening. Damn it! he thought, clenching his fist tightly by his side. The grip on his own fist was weak as heck. I can't even beat this guy, Walter began to believe, the words falling down on him like a million rocks. Damn it!! Walter repeated in his mind once over. He pulled back as he let out a harsh scream. "I'll kill you!" he threatened in an uproar. Confidence poured through his body, wanting to rip the opponent to shreds, yet his body was in no condition to beat his speed at this point. Walter backed up, feeling the pain shoot through his side in anger. It seemed to warn him to not take it too far. Those were Eric's exact thoughts.

"Now, now," Sanshouuo began. "Let's not be so hasty," he suggested evilly as the immense power showed through the tone of his voice. His stare was hard on the ground, that scythed-looking bone sticking out of his body ominously, its large prowess threatening. His new legs seemed to comfort him as he played with his tongue maniacally. The power seemed to turn him psychotic. He laughed mockingly at Walter, who then gritted his teeth in even further anger.

Suddenly, Sanshouuo began to move. His steps were drunken and acrobatic, his feet stumbling uneasily. His steps were wandering off into every direction, his body swaying weakly as his arms swung as he seemed that he was about to fall after every inch he moved. It took a while to get used to Mode. I need to find Gaia, Sanshouuo told himself, his energy jolting into his feet as he suddenly reappeared at the side of a tree. His fingers clutched the wet bark as he stared back at the two Minors. The boys peered back as well. Walter's whole body seemed to tremble in uncontrollable rage. Sanshouuo smiled creepily. "I'll come back for your prey later," Sanshouuo told them creepily. His voice seemed more demonic than ever, if possible. "Prey is meant to be eaten, after all," he mumbled as he disappeared into the forest. He sighed as he left his "prey" behind. Hopefully, Gaia has finished with the other one, he thought as he grinned in deviance.

PoVS

Damn it, I can't get caught! Mark thought as he jumped upward into the air, the tsunami of dirt crashing down below. The rushing brownness piled against the trees and broke their bodies, their splintering remains trying to attack them in hateful revenge. The wave continued to brush by easily like a non-stoppable wildfire. Mark began to show beads of sweat as he felt the cool air rush against him. He fell back down, his bare feet touching the unsteady dirt that layered against the forest. He was able to change the landscape completely, Mark realized as he swallowed hard.

He stared into the distance, finding an amused opponent with the craziest smirk in history. The hard stare made Mark nervous. The wind began to pick up eerily, whistling against the trees as their heads swayed to the musical dance. The sun's light began to pick up as well, shining heatedly against Mark's feet, giving them some level of comfort.

From behind, a rush of dirt came again, looking for its prey. Mark easily dodged, jumping to a tree's bark as the small wave of dirt followed. They seemed to grow in numbers as he jumped to the next tree, getting closer and closer upward. The rustling of their movement gave away their presence. Soon, Mark found himself desperately trying to dodge a flurry of those waves, flipping and dodging in the air just barely as he found them coming at him. He cried out as he was suddenly gripped around the ankle by a wave of dirt that constricted to his ankle. He took a sharp gasp as he was pulled hack, getting spun in a wheel of anticipation. Gaia let out an amused chuckle. He seemed to hold the laughs back now.

Damn it! Mark thought. I'm caught! Soon, he was swung across the dirt field, flying through the air like an arrow from a bow. Wind rushed past him as his limbs hung in front of him, unable to do anything. His fluttering clothes were cooling to his warming skin. It was the only comfort at the moment. Clouds swam slowly in their celestial ocean above slowly and lazily, as if having an everlasting tiredness. It wasn't like blocking the sun was the most stressful thing in the world. Nor was moving.

Mark found his body closer and closer to the floor until he felt a surface against his back, the fluttering of his clothes stopping. He was taken by surprise, not finding himself in a pile of hard, packed dirt, but instead a moving patch of mud. "Mud…?" he cried out blankly as the churning, brownish liquid began to rise and surround him, overtaking him in darkness. He took his last deep breath as the stench of wetness and soil cornered him. Darkness enveloped him as the last filter of sunlight was blocked out.

Outside of t he overwhelming darkness, Gaia backed himself up against the trunk of a tree. It made a hollow clutter as the thorny wood nicked at his back. His tail wavered in the air playfully as boredom entered his thoughts. Suddenly, a wound began to grow in the palm of his hand, the grey-brownness replaced with a dark redness. Blood began to leak out like a tiny teardrop. He picked up his hand and looked at it. He scoffed, narrowing his eyes. Bending downward, he placed his hand on the dirt ground for a while, pressing the suspiciously wounded hand against the surface hard.

He sighed as he waited. This is getting intense, he told himself. He looked backward, his blackness eyes hard past the trees, engaging in a thoughtful search that tried to confirm his wonder. I can feel Sanshouuo's crazy energy from far away, he told himself. It seems as though he's coming after me, Gaia realized. Just how far did those two kids push him? Gaia turned back to his hand and picked it up from the floor. He looked at its palm, and it was woundless now, the only thing abnormal about it was the dusty dirt caking his skin. He smiled.

Sanshouuo's energy is so thick, he told himself. It's almost unbearable. The tense feeling of it gave Gaia an anxious feeling, something uncomfortable that he'd rather live without. It didn't cause him to think straight anymore.

Back in the muddy sphere of darkness, Mark tried hard to see. The only thing he heard was the echoing sound of slithering mud as icky-ness splotched downward from the "ceiling." Mark thought hard, trailing his fingers carefully against the domed wall. It was a small sphere he found himself locked up in, and there was only a little bit of air left to breathe. The strong stench of soil and damp air never left, and now, muddiness was caking his clothes. This mud, he thought as he felt his fingers ran through it once more. It was somewhat pleasing to do that. It kept him company, and took his mind off things. It's not ordinary mud, he told himself. It's packed tightly yet constantly flowing. It must have Gaia's ability's energy in it.

Mark sighed. He wondered if Gaia was going to let him suffocate in there or attack from the outside. Either way, Mark knew he had to get out of there fast. But how? On top of that, he began again. The air's becoming short, which leaves me bare minutes, or even seconds before I begin to feel more uneasy here. Mark began thinking hard, lifting his fingers from the slimy wall. He had lost his nervous habit, and felt the anxiety pour back into his emotions as he sighed tiredly.

Back outside of the solitude of Mark, Gaia watched the sphere of brownish mud form a perfect sphere. Better end this fast, Gaia thought to himself. I want all the fun to myself. He felt kind of guilty that he had to destroy something so perfect and round, though. It was a disappointment. If only there were easier ways to kill, Gaia thought.

Putting his arm out, slowly, the skin strangely began peeling off and went into the air as yellowish dust. The skin tone of his forearm suddenly became a bit more pinkish as the yellowish dust gathered in his fist, which he clenched tightly with both hands. He sighed as he continued to look at the perfect sphere, somewhat restraining himself to go on with the murder. Yet he knew that there would be no enjoyment once Sanshouuo showed up. He had to do it – now. There would be other times I would have to make another perfect thing, Gaia thought as he put his hands together, and then pulling them apart to make a clayish spear. The hard, yellow clay was cragged and uneasy, molded from his own skin.

"Hey," Gaia shouted out, pulling the spear ready at his shoulder. He grinned evilly as the unbalanced weapon of clay chose to dangle impatiently like a triple beam balance's scale. His tail began to waver with the breezes playfully, and somewhat anxiously. Gaia was sure the kid couldn't hear him. At this point, his hearing will be muffled by the thickening mud. The longer he waits to get out, the harder it'll be to do it. He's definitely still in there, Gaia told himself. A wider grin grew. A more demonic one that showed a somewhat version of fangs. His eyes crinkled in readiness for enjoyment. "This is the end," Gaia said. "You die, now!"

With a burst of energy and a loud battle cry, Gaia thrust the spear through the air, heading directly for that "perfect" sphere. As he felt the heavyset weapon leave his fingertips, he watched as it torpedoed toward the large mud ball. He heard its threatening screech as it shuffled through the air. It's cragged, triangular point seemed to glimmer just a tiny bit from the sunlight, barely noticeable. Its thick body was as hard as stone.

Then, finally, it was heard. The loud crack of the clay spear against the hard, thick mud. The sickening burst of mud once the weapon dug deep into it. The long explosion of brown that reminded Gaia of his brother, long waves of powerful wind blowing his hair backward. Blackish birds rushed upward from their trees they called home in a rush. They seemed panicky, their wings fluttering frantically as the loud explosion echoed through the trees, blow-drying their heads in a free beauty caress. The ebony birds leaned upward as they left behind their feathers, too eager to run away. The flapping of their arms would remain in Gaia's ears forever as a memory.

A wide grin grew on Gaia, and a proud one at that. His pure, black demonic eyes seemed to twinkle in the rising sun. "He's dead," he said to himself amusingly. He played with his tongue again, the long redness squiggling in the air, licking around his lips. He seemed pleased, having the enjoyment he had so longed for in the past. The explosion calmed down, and the dust and dirt finally settled.

Gaia began to slither forward, the tip of his tail dragging lightly on the floor limply. It seemed to have a mind of its own at times, the first minute hyper and excited, the next, bored and lazy. Just like the clouds. He neared the patch of dirt and smiled even wider, if possible. He tried to restrain himself from bursting out in laughter, as he sensed his brother was coming nearer and nearer. He would be pleased to hear that one of the preys was dead. He never was one to enjoy prey like they should, Gaia thought to himself, scoffing mockingly at the apparent foolishness of his partner.

He sighed as he peered around, trying to look for something that would keep him company as time passed by. He wanted to seem bored out of his mind when his brother had come. Maybe he had killed those two as well, Gaia thought. He hoped he hadn't. He wanted to enjoy this more. They had been bossed around by _him_ for so long. He always seemed to go first when they came across prey. Then, he would always kill them in seconds, or the prey would surrender, and then be killed in seconds. They all shared the same fate. Rarely did he let them go first. This was a time to enjoy, not to waste. Gaia began to wonder why he and his brother had worked for him anyways. Probably only because he was the most powerful – and most feared danger locked up in the horrid place they now called home. Gaia sighed. Why us? We get treated like shit, he thought.

Suddenly, a cracking noise took place behind Gaia. It was so fast, he had no time to turn around and look – not even take a glance he had time for. From the crack rose an ominous clothed leg that punched a hole in the ground from below. The clothes worn by it were fairly recognizable .They could only belong to the Earth Minor who had surprisingly survived. Mark. The foot tapped Gaia's back lightly, making him tip over as he was taken by surprised, choking on his own breath as he was about to fall forward. Suddenly, an arm rose from the ground as well, and from before Gaia this time, punching him right in the stomach as he was about to go down. He again was taken by surprise as he felt the pressure of the punch dig deep into his stomach. He had the air knocked out of him.

Gaia coughed out his own saliva as his eyes widened in shock and pain. He couldn't seem to breathe. Or, it would be more accurate to say, he had no time to. Then, as Gaia leaned more downward, another leg rose from beside the first leg. It went between Gaia's legs and kicked him right in the navel, Mark's heel digging deep into his organ again without a noise. The kick was more intense than both the punch and nick combined. It sent Gaia flying at least ten feet away, his body colliding against a tree's towering trunk. The limbs stuck out of their respective holes ominously, until a burst of energy struck through the midsection of the limbs, breaking the surface entirely and revealing the smirking Mark and his confident eyes. He squinted as dusty rocks clattered back downward, holding his hand in front of him as a sign that he punched his way out.

Damn it…! Gaia coughed out. He fell to the floor and supported himself with his hands. He retched uncomfortably, finding it hard to breathe at least once. His voice was thorough into his stomach as he followed the sickening noise with a round of coughs. He spit out his own saliva, trying to make himself feel easier. What the hell!? He screamed in protest to himself. Shouldn't he be dead!?

Mark got up on his feet, dusting his clothes off. He took a big whiff of fresh air and tried to remember it. He was finally out of that wretched, reeking sphere.

PoVS

"How long as it been?" Dirondo asked as she slipped easily into the room, taking a cautious step forward. She had told Minoa that she was coming as well, and had asked her to make the proper preparations. Dirondo silently closed the door behind her, making the sound mute with her wondrous sound powers. She had completely shut off the dreadful moaning of the door as it closed.

The room was completely highlighted in darkness. Thick umbra almost completely filled the whole room. For some reason, the dark corridors inside the room felt like they were painted with orange light, allowing them to see just a tiny bit. Minoa showed up as her shoes clicked against the hard plaster surface. She made no noise, knowing that it was a solemn time and not a moment for chit-chat. She hid her worry behind her pale eyes as she nodded at Dirondo. "Ever since we left the Minors," she whispered to the fellow council as both began to walk through the dim hall.

It was strange being in a place like this, Dirondo thought. She hadn't been to this part of the Inner World for centuries. She looked at the thin, seemingly barely secured prison bars adjacent to the orange brick walls and wondered if it was safe. The cages didn't seem to… user friendly. Their shoes clicked ominously, the only sound made as they continued to pace through what seemed to be the never-ending hallway. Dirondo gulped. She wanted to make some conversation. She didn't like worrying this much. "So," she began, placing her hands behind her back and twiddling her fingers randomly in nervousness. Her eyes seemed to wander off to the corner as she thought for something to say. She had all ready caught Minoa's attention. "How is your Minor?" she spat out randomly.

"I wouldn't know," Minoa said bleakly. Her voice was monotonous. It was only because she shared the same anxiety as Dirondo. She swallowed hard as her white hair fell over her face. She didn't care to brush it back.

"Oh, is that so?" Dirondo said weakly, her voice showing her panic. She felt embarrassed. Dirondo was always the more hyper, outdoorsy one. Minoa didn't ever seem to like her much. They continued to walk past the orange, empty cages, their shoes still clicking on the floor in their own unpredictable pattern. Dirondo's seemed to have a stronger snap to them as they made their way onto the floor. It seemed like a walk that lasted forever in a room that seemed to last forever. When it finally stopped, Dirondo was glad. Although, her panic hadn't worn a bit, yet neither did her physical energy. "Is that… him?" she asked, not believing what she saw.

Loud roaring echoed from the large cage at the end of the hall-like room. This cage was by far the biggest, and Dirondo couldn't believe they needed such a cage for someone they held so dearly. Her eyes shuddered as she figured out the answer on her own. Minoa had decided to tell her telepathically, which was usually not her thing. The roaring continued to echo off the walls and metal, the image of their loved person unable to be seen. The spacious cage they peered into seemed to be nothing but darkness, only a sliver of orange to reveal inside. Large wisps of air were being sucked in like a vacuum as some purplish, neon-like light bubbled from the darkness. Jeremy…? Dirondo felt like crying.

"He's only been making black holes for now," Minoa told her fellow council in a light tone. She was careful not to speak too loud. "Furthermore, it seems that he's crawled to the back of the cage. It seems as if he still has some of his will left in there. Maybe he's holding back his power with the tiny sliver of will he last left in him right now. That would explain why he only is using black holes."

"Maybe he is what we thought him to be after all," Dirondo thought. Minoa nodded.

"If that's true, then it seems that he most likely reacted to this," Minoa told Dirondo. She pulled out a golden, shiny lace connecting to a larger piece of gold. It glimmered slightly in the nonexistent orange light as it moved slightly, a certain red hint to it. It was the "locket" that Shintenmaru had handed Jeremy. Its red jewel in the middle of it twinkled lightly in faked vindication. "It's going to be hard to close all his gates," Minoa explained. Dirondo agreed.

In another room of the Inner World, Raikettei walked up to Shintenmaru as he caught his life-long friend pacing in the halls. "Hey," Raikettei called out as he brought his large hand to Shintenmaru's shoulder. Their voices were solemn, and darkness seemed to swallow them from every corner. Shintenmaru stopped. The sudden grip on his shoulder didn't take him by surprise. Without turning back to face Raikettei, he began to answer.

"What is it that you need?" Shintenmaru asked bleakly. His voice didn't seem too friendly.

Raikettei calmed himself to Shintenmaru's levels. "Things have been intensifying lately," Raikettei reminded his council mate. "Do you think _they_ could be coming back anytime soon?" Raikettei gulped even at the mention of them.

"With the promise they made, I hope not," Shintenmaru answered, his voice still as dull and unenthusiastic. "We'd be better off that way. However," Shintenmaru continued, beginning to show some emotion in his words. "Sometimes I still wonder if… we made the correct decision with them."

"Of course we did, don't regret it!" Raikettei tried to knock some sense into Shintenmaru. Then, he calmed himself again. The Lightning Council sighed as he continued. "There was no way we could help it. With their demands from us, it was the best choice to do things."

"I see, but if they are…" Shintenmaru trailed off. His didn't want to complete his sentence. He moved on. "Your Minor is from the Kumoyama Family, is he not?" Shitnenmaru asked Raikettei. The Lightning Council seemed surprised at the question.

"Y-Yes," he answered, grumbling. That's right, Raikettei thought. Rick was from the Kumoyama Family. That meant…

"If they come back, he may have some problems with it. According to the rumors…" Shintenmaru trailed off once again.

"I know," Raikettei replied in acknowledgement. They apparently knew each other's sentences before they came from their lips. However, there still seemed to be a necessity to talk it out in person. "But… he may live to his family's current title, and become strong as a Minor with his Half Spirit and his abilities." Shintenmaru seemed to agree.

"We can't waste anymore time," Shitnenmaru said. "Go tell the others that if things get so much out of hand, we may have to get the other _them_ to assist us immediately. I catch an eerie feeling that things are about to become much more intense," Shitnenmaru explained. Raikettei nodded obediently. Shintenmaru was the most strategic, which was why everyone obeyed him like he was the commander. Raikettei dashed away, his presence suddenly disappearing as the click-clack of his shoes faded away slowly into the darkness. Shintenmaru sighed lightly to himself and picked up his glasses. Then, he resumed his walk through the darkness.


	70. Chapter 70

The sun began to raise high in the sky, the pale, bright sphere an ominous omen of birth. The clouds slowly passed by in their sloth-like swim. The warmness of the sun was numb as Mark waited in his readied position, watching Gaia lay against the tree trunk uncomfortably.

Damn this brat, Gaia told himself. He clutched the pain at his side away as he took calming breaths. How did he manage to think of a getaway plan so quick? Freakin' smart kids. No matter… one Sanshouuo gets here-

Suddenly, his thought was cut off. His partner's presence suddenly felt more near, and the energy rates it gave off were so intense and unbearable. No way, Gaia told himself in disbelief. He hasn't gone this far since we fought _him_, Gaia thought. Then, he heard his voice. The whisper of his brother's voice was so sudden, it shocked Gaia and jerked his head upward. His heart seemed to skip a beat. "Gaia," he whispered weakly. He could tell that Sanshouuo had been beat badly without looking at him as the words continued to stream into his ears. "We can't waste anymore time with these kids," Sanshouuo muttered strictly. "We have to-"

Sanshouuo's voice was cut off by his brother's quickened reply. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," he told him. Gaia was pleased. Looks like I'll be able to use Mode and unfasten some limits after all, Gaia told himself, smiling. Also, it looks like that Earth-Controlling guy is still worn out, and doesn't suspect a thing. Too bad, Gaia thought a bit sadly and evilly. That means we won't have as much fun as I thought we would. Gaia could tell by now that Sanshouuo was eager to hurry it up. He decided not to make Sanshouuo wait any longer.

The now red-eyed demon came from behind the tree Gaia kept in front of, his feet still wobbly as they revealed his presence. Mark's features tightened in surprise. That amused Gaia. Sanshouuo looked as worn out as ever; Gaia had never seen him so beaten up. Just what did they do to him? Gaia thought as he watched his brother. "I told you we can't waste time-!" Sanshouuo rasped angrily. His head seemed to be bowed in shame, concealing his facial features.

"Okay, okay," Gaia said, crawling into Sanshouuo and making the two one again. He grinned evilly, thinking of the joyous times ahead. His wide, deviant grin grew wider as the two sunk into each other. First by their fingers, then their arms, then the shoulders, and finally half the bodies. Mark seemed to tense up, realizing the trouble ahead.

Gaia closed his eyes in readiness as the similar bone rose from his back just like Sanshouuo had but on the opposite side. Human-like legs grew from his side as well, and when he reopened his eyes as the rest of him grew, the blackness faded into an envious green. Power surged through his half of his body as well, and Sanshouuo suddenly felt more energetic, and recovered. He sighed as Gaia shared his energy with him, feeling the warmth and easiness slide into his body as if it were wearing him, trying him on like a sweater you see at the store. Sleeve by sleeve, the comfort pulled Sanshouuo on, giving him the most sensational feeling he had ever felt for a long time. Now, both brothers were combined, and with their new look, they looked even more deadly than before. Their bones that stuck out of their bodies seemed to be caked with dried blood, the ominous pale easily mistaken for a gray.

Mark swallowed uneasily. The knot in his throat kept coming back. He didn't know if he could handle both of them now, and it was obvious they had received more abilities by combining together. What now? Mark asked himself. Suddenly, as if on cue to his thought, mud sprung from the tree and wrapped around him, taking him by surprise. The thick, chocolaty dirt acted like restrainers, gripping him tightly in its demonic hold. He fumbled uneasily, trying to get out, but he couldn't move his arms or legs. He could only move his hands, head and feet. He remained struck through the tree, the piney trunk digging uncomfortably into his back. Mark winced as he gritted his teeth tightly in effort.

Gaia and Sanshouuo didn't even seem to be paying attention to him! Looks like they were faking it, Mark realized. The two heads turned to his direction, Gaia flashing an evil, fun-looking grin and Sanshouuo fashioning a serious, death-threatening glare. From Gaia's grey arm, his skin began peeling away into dust again. The dust piled into his hand and began to stretch out and grow into a yellow, rocky substance. Soon, it overtook his hand like a gloved mask, and dust still danced in the air like unused remains. Gaia peered to Mark who was just waiting there against the tree obediently like hopeless prey. It excited Gaia to see prey in that condition. It made his heart beat just a bit faster as time went on, like a hamster on a wheel that wouldn't stop. "I suppose I've had enough fun for now," Gaia smiled as he tightened his grip on the prickly, clay arrowhead that consumed his arm, as if eating away at his body like a hungry shark.

"I told you all ready, you can't waste time!" Sanshouuo repeated, his voice agitated, his bloody eyes narrowing into half their size. His jaw seemed to shake as he clenched his teeth, holding back his impatience. "Just kill him; we don't have much time to waste," Sanshouuo said calmer this time, yet still not the least bit nice. Gaia didn't care. Sanshouuo was always like this to him. Sanshouuo continued to wait, his dark, secretive eyes shrinking to ruby slits.

Gaia sighed reluctantly. "Okay," he said, barely willing to take Mark out. He brought the elongated arrowhead of clay close to his face, feeling the hard, steel-like point dig deep into his skin as it slashed a slit of red across his cheek. "This clay I made is harder than steel. It'll slice through your organs for sure," Gaia warned as he smiled at the reaction he received. A drop of blood took a dreary walk down his grey-brown skin as Gaia put his arm out. The clay was heavy in his hand, and he was somewhat glad that it was going to leave soon. That was the only thing he was looking forward to at the moment. "Die!" he cried out loudly as the arrowhead burst through the air like a crazed rocket, speeding towards Mark as he prepared himself.

Mark began to feel himself lose the feeling in the front of his body as he tried to decide on whether he should close his eyes or not. Could he bare the blood spilling through the air and the pain that struck through him like a poison that lasted forever with his eyes open? Or could he deal with not being alert of what was happening and not watching the weapon inch closer, wishing it away with his brown, pleading eyes? He didn't know the answer to either question. Once more he tried to escape from the brownish hold. No good. It was as solid as stone for some reason. The best he could do now was watch- or not. Even that he was confused for.

Close his eyes? Keep his eyes open? Close his eyes? Keep his eyes open? Keep my eyes open, Mark finally decided, randomizing his choice as he imagined the tip of the arrowhead dig deep into his ribs and slicing through his heart. His body tried to shudder at the thought, but the muddy ropes restrained him from doing so. He watched the tip as it glimmered lightly in the rising son. Crimson caked it as its threatening glide through the air created a thousand knots in the Earth Minor's throat. Then, at the last few seconds, Mark decided to close his eyes, changing his answer. He didn't know what good it would do him, anyway. He felt like breathing hard out of his panic and anxiety, but there didn't seem to be time for that. It was something in the back of his mind left unnoticed, and better off that way.

Then, a sickening crack of bone and clay struck through the air, and more spots of blood spilled onto the yellow clay. At the sight of someone else's blood, Gaia began to get more excited. His eyes widened and he smiled wonderfully, thinking deathly thoughts as he played with his tongue, trying to wear out some of his thrill. It did no good. Gaia found himself breathing heavily as his creepy smile froze in place, watching more blood spill onto the yellow clay. Restrained cries sounded through gritted, pained teeth.

Mark kept his eyes closed as he felt the pain surge through his body. Wait – pain? He asked himself. He let his awareness sink back into him and realized – there was no pain. He didn't feel the heaviness of the clay on him, and he didn't feel the open wound revealed to the brisk air. He didn't feel the surging pain that spread through his organs like Gaia promised. So what happened? Slowly and reluctantly, Mark opened his eyes. His right eye opened first, being the braver. It revealed the brown curiosity through a tiny slit as his other eye remained locked up for safety. He watched with gritted teeth as the situation became clear in his mind. His other eye opened up in anticipation, his right eye opening to its fullest as well. He was surprised at what happened – just a few seconds before, this result was classified as impossible in Mark's mind.

Mark bit his lip to check if he was dreaming. It was the only pain he received at the moment. Another person's legs trembled as he watched the back of the person. He immediately distinguished his protector, even though he didn't have to guess much about who he was. "E…Eric?" Mark said through wide open teeth that were no longer tightly clenched. His mouth dangled open like the hole of a broken window.

Eric stood as he regained the feeling back in his feet. He panted heavily as his eyes glanced up at the two bodies combined, realizing the trouble they've both been merged into. He held his hand in front of his face, the fingers wanting to clench into a tight fist, blood leaking out in dark, sinister drops. The large arrowhead ten times his hand's size was struck right into his hand. Its tip dug deep into his finger bones. Little pain seared through his arm as he brought the hand to his side slowly, being very cautious.

"Damn it, this kid," Sanshouuo muttered in a raspy voice. He sounded like an elderly grim reaper. "Why must you always interfere, you fucking rat?" he shouted at Eric in an angered voice. He was about to become so irritated, it wasn't going to be healthy.

"Calm down, brother," Gaia moaned in a sigh. "This means we'll get more fun now." The envy-eyed one grinned evilly in more anticipation and thrill. He couldn't wait to dig his fingers deep into those two kids' bodies and feel their blood soaking on his fingertips. It excited him so much; the only thing that bound him in his place was Sanshouuo's half of the body. Sometimes, Gaia thought. Sanshouuo is such a drag.

"Damn it!" Sanshouuo cried out angrily. "You don't understand, you fool! If we don't get rid of them fast, we'll keep _him_ waiting. Moreover, we just might die!"

"Who cares?" Gaia yawned at the boring conversation. Sanshouuo always had to be so cranky and serious, Gaia thought. "He deserves to wait. After the way he's treated us, it's actually a drop in the bucket," Gaia let out his thought. He tried not to let Sanshouuo wear out his enthusiasm.

"Damn it, if we do that, we'll get killed both ways!" Sanshouuo shot back. Gaia seemed to remain quiet, yet his hunger for killing hadn't been satiated yet. He seemed to pout, the only thing he could do. These guys… Mark thought as the mud restrainers fell limply to the floor like melting chocolate. He felt the freedom return to his limbs as he stepped away from the tree, afraid that the dirt would come back for him again. He stood at Eric's side now, glancing slightly with nervous eyes at the heavy arrowhead struck in his hand. He imagined the pain of the wound. "Damn it, just kill them! Just kill them!" Sanshouuo demanded frantically. Gaia seemed pleased at the command.

"Maina-Mizu," a voice sounded through the forest suddenly. The voice was quiet and calm, yet hints of confidence showing all over it. "Suijou Funka! –Aquatic Eruption-" This time, the voice sounded loudly through the forest, the voice seeming to come from every direction. Gaia and Sanshouuo seemed to pick up their alert as they moved their heads frantically, searching for the source as their vulnerability increased, their minds more puzzled. They noticed at the last minute as they jumped to their right together, jumping the farthest distance they could. That second, a wild rush of water erupted from the cracks underground, pushing upward, filtering through the dirty and stone ground. Water shot out in lines surrounding the unleveled rocks with tremendous pressure, cracking the whole entire ground. Eric and Mark watched as they shielded their eyes from the attack.

Amazing… Mark thought. These guys… Mark thought as he referred to his two other teammates. They surpass my abilities far more even if mine doubled, he realized. "Dangerous, dangerous," Gaia chanted creepily as he watched the waters calm and create small, cracked streams splashing from beneath the protruding rocks.

Suddenly, Walter came rushing out from the trees and tries multiple hand to hand combat moves against the two, but they dodged easily and eventually knocked him backward to join the group. He landed on the ground on his back, dust and dirt caking the back of his clothes now. The push was overwhelming, and he felt weak for accepting such a hit. He gritted his teeth angrily as he got up on his feet, resistant to show any sign of giving up. His eyes were locked in a tight narrow stare of anger as his clenched fists never loosened. He growled under his breath as he thought, preparing himself for another round. I can still move, yet not as fast as before I tried to kill Sanshouuo, he told himself. But, I'm not giving them any chance of getting away! I'll kill them for sure! If not… then that means… He loosened his narrowed eyes as he pictured his aunt and uncle's demonic faces shaded in darkness, the only obvious feature being their uncaring eyes and carefree outlines.

I'll kill them, Walter thought. I'll kill them for what they put me through! For the loneliness I had to deal with ever since I was younger than ten, I'll kill them all! I don't care if there are hundreds of them, I'll kill them!! Walter began to tense up as the anger took control of him, his teeth showing his uncontrollable rage as his eyes narrowed meanly. His clenched fists pushed his nails into the palm of his hand, feeling blood leaking out of his hand and filtering through the fingers. His Half Spirit's energy began to show, slithering around his body like actual water, snaking around his limbs and masking him with a blue aura.

"I'll go first this time," Gaia declared without conference. Sanshouuo scoffed. Gaia frowned uneasily as he thought of ripping Sanshouuo apart. The bones sticking out of their backs click-clacked ominously as Gaia prepared himself.

"Fine," Sanshouuo reluctantly added, his head still bowed as if in shame. He was just too tired to lift his head. "Don't waste time!" he demanded. He knew Gaia wouldn't listen by the look on his face and that smile he wore. Gaia really pissed him off sometimes. He never understood serious things that could happen. How the hell did they ever get stuck like this? "These guys can become dangerous if you toy with them," Sanshouuo warned in a raspy voice. "Don't play around!" he demanded harshly and suddenly.

Gaia scoffed. "How boring," he added. "And I thought I was going to have fun when the earth controlling one survived."

"Who are these guys?" Eric muttered to himself as he changed his stance. He shifted his weight and feet across the dirt floor, feeling the dust fly into the air as his feet dragged across.

"Be careful," Mark warned. "The green-eyed one controls the landscape," he told them in a calm yet fearful voice. Eric nodded as he kept that in mind. Walter seemed too dazed into his own thoughts to notice.

"Don't talk like you know all our abilities!" Gaia demanded in a screech. "Now that we're combined like this, we have tons more to show you," he informed them in a thrilled voice. He just couldn't control his excitement. He had to sigh out his enthusiasm when it became overwhelming, which was a lot. "Let's go, brother," Gaia changed his tone towards Sanshouuo, trying to get along with him for now. He could sense both of them wanted to rip the other one to pieces at this point. The tone he used somewhat patched things up.

"Yeah," Sanshouuo said calmer as well this time.

"Nendo Goei! –Clay Guard-" Gaia declared. The Minor team seemed to shift as they prepared themselves for anything, keeping all senses open just in case. At this point, if you weren't extremely paranoid of your surroundings, you would die. Suddenly, Gaia's half of the body seemed to turn more pinkish, a layer of skin diminishing into particles in the air. Gaia's bone piece on the back struck the ground harshly as if it hated it, and began to assist Gaia. Moments later, the green-eyed one had his skin back. The particles formed a sticky clay formula that rose in swirls upward from the ground, forming a sphere like body of thickening clay that was built like a wall towering towards the sky. The sticky, more liquid like clay hardened into a thick yellow. The sunlight glimmered on its skin, fading away as it became less and less hard. "Sanshouuo," Gaia called to his brother. Sanshouuo stirred. "I'll go to your terms," he began. "I'll try to make it quick, but I still have to get some fun out of it." Sanshouuo nodded weakly. "I don't want to use up too much."

"Use up too much what?" Sanshouuo was forced to speak. "Energy?" he guessed.

"Don't act dumb," Gaia told his brother. "You know what I'm talking about." Sanshouuo chuckled weakly and returned to his solemn, weak state. Gaia scoffed in his mind. With half of this body barely moving, I'll have to use long distance. Looks like things are in my favor after all, Gaia thought with a smirk.

Eric brought a hand to the one carrying the large arrowhead. Like pulling off a band-aid, he struck the thick clay out of him, letting out a restrained cry as the blood spilled out from the hole in his hand. He dropped the heavy clay to the floor as he left the wound alone, some blood still pouring out of it. That clay is dangerous, Mark thought as he stared at the yellow arrowhead crumble back into dust as it lay solemnly on the floor, waiting for its death. Then, Mark stared to the large clay sphere in front of them, challenging them. Will we be able to handle it?

"Damn it!" Walter screamed out. "Don't fool around with these stupid moves!" Walter demanded as he rushed his feet toward the sphere and crashed his fist into it, surprising everyone. The four other people let out a shocked gasp as Walter's fist pummeled straight into the clay, sphere wall. It made a huge dent and a big area of cracks as water shot out from them, aiding him in his punch. The sound of spitting water was the only sound heard from miles as the ground shook eerily, yet making no noise. The immense power of Walter's attack surprised everyone as they tried not to stumble on their feet and fall. The cracks on the sphere wall continued to crawl upward like a demise just wanting to happen. Water came from the new cracks as well, and slowly as the yellow clay crumbled, you could hear the wall beginning to shatter and fall to pieces, down-pouring on the suspecting Minor.


	71. Chapter 71

"Damn it!" Walter let out in an anguished scream. His non-stop screech pumped power through his punch as the sound of forcing water and sound of cracking clay filled the air. The immense energy shook the ground like a harmless earthquake. Water spilled from the cracks like unpredictable waves on the beach. The yellow clay began to crumble downward, pieces of the sphere beginning to fall. The enormous sphere was being destroyed. Walter's piercing screams were soon muffled by the rushing of water as he felt the Half Spirit's energy pour out of him like an open faucet. The hissing waters watered the surrounding blades of grass, splattering random drops of wetness over their heads.

They continued to sprinkle over the dirt lightly like a topping for ice cream. The threatening hisses scolded the sky and seemed to call the sun forward. This much power… Eric thought as he tried hard to stay on his feet. Amazing…He doesn't look the least bit tired at all. Walter let out a confident cry of anger again. The twin-headed opponents seemed amused.

With a burst of energy, suddenly, the large chunks of clay flew in all directions as more mounds of water spurted out like a garden's sprinkler. It sprayed all over Walter's face and clothes, something he ignored. The wet coolness against his face seemed to cling on to him uncomfortably. It was like wearing a mask. Having that water on his face didn't make him feel normal. As hails of yellow clay came pouring down in a rainstorm of rock, Walter drew back his hand from the crumbling rock and began to dodge each one evasively. He ducked to the right, a large boulder of clay crashing down in the exact same spot a second later. He dodged to the left, stumbling on his feet, and leaned backward as more clay of all sizes came down. "Damn, it, die!" Sanshouuo pleaded hastily.

With a wave of his hand, Sanshouuo sent an explosion to the falling clay, a huge cloud of dust falling over Walter. The blackish puffs of blindness swept over Mark and Eric's eyes, taking away their alert. Mark coughed as he brought a heavy arm to his mouth. He gagged on it as he gave a cold hard stare into the ebony smoke. The red-eyed one makes explosions? He thought as he watched the blackness fade away to its clear, natural color. He wondered if the smoke was poisonous.

Seconds later, everyone found Walter as he burst out of the rising cloud of black. Wisps of devilish fog still clung to his clothes as he escaped the cloudiness. His clothes fluttered wildly as they were brought up in the air. "Maina Mizu: Suidangan! –Water Bullets!-" Walter cried out in midair. His brown hair bristled by as the winds filtered through them, playing with his brunette strands like an instrument. From his back sprung miniature spheres of clear water, bursting out of his skin with an enormous pressure. They were lethal, even if they didn't look like it, and they were half-invisible.

Sanshouuo and Gaia danced with each other's feet maniacally, dodging each bullet as they hit the trunk of a tree behind them expertly. The liquid bullets shot direct holes through the tree's proud, wounded body. Smoke rose from the immense pressure and created a misty scenery around the two-headed ones. Gaia smiled playfully. Sanshouuo gave a serious grin. "Damn it!" Walter spat to himself. "We're not losing!" he cried out in anger as he pulled himself to the floor, and zoomed into thin air.

"Walter!" Eric cried out, desperate to help his fellow Minor.

"Don't get in the way!" Walter's voice cried out as the blur rushed through the dirt. Smoke dragged behind his feet like a trail unable to follow. Eric took a sharp gasp and held himself back. He clenched his fist in restrain as he nervously chewed his own teeth. His red bandanna seemed lose, and his hair was beginning to get uncomfortable under it.

With full preparedness, Walter began to fight the two headed enemy physically. He made various tricks, and he seemed as if he had regained the speed he had lost. It was the confidence that brought it all back, no doubt. The confidence not to give in. Sounds of impact sounded through the trees and echoed off the leaves enticingly. The moves both sides made gave no clue who would win, keeping the observers' interests. Dust flew about as Walter made different punches against Gaia's blocking arm, who seemed as if he felt no pain. There's something wrong here, Walter realized as he continued with the various, unpredictable attacks. My attacks… he thought. They're all being neutralized. But by what? Why can't I land any damage even though I'm hitting him all the time?! Walter's thoughts angered him, thinking to himself that he was weak. He refused to let that become reality.

More dust flew about as he continued to make impact. It seemed to begin to consume him now, wrapping around him in a zero visibility mist. Gaia scoffed in his head as he watched the punches continue. He can't do the least bit of damage to me, Gaia thought. Sanshouuo and I have too many tricks up our sleeves.

"Walter needs help," Mark suggested to Eric. Eric nodded. But they both knew they couldn't find any openings. Walter was taking care of every single one himself. He was amazing. It made Eric believe even further that he was a prodigy. "Here," Mark whispered to Eric as he threw something towards him. Eric sent his attention at the last moment and caught the spear made of rocky earth in his hands. The dusty, thick spear was fragile, but it had to do for now.

"Walter!" Eric cried out, his voice sounding out the syllables to his name with the longest time thought possible. Walter turned around, unable to catch a breath – unable to let out a word. He could only glance at Eric for a second before he ducked a punch by Sanshouuo.

"What?!" he choked out in anger, wondering why they were distracting him. That was Walter's way of thinking. He always thought he could do things by himself. It was the way he grew up, and the only way he trusted someone.

"Here!" Eric cried out with disregard. He thrust the spear into the air as Walter caught notice of it, catching a glimpse of its rocky texture in the corner of his eye. The Water Minor ducked another punch again as he backed up and jumped into the air. With an enormous jump, he caught the spear in his hand and twirled it skillfully. The movement of his fingers seemed almost threatening, as well as the look painted over his face. Gaia and Sanshouuo felt challenged.

"Thanks," Walter replied reluctantly. Walter never seemed to have manners. Eric smiled lightly as he put on a tough lock on his features. He scoffed under his breath as he watched Walter work the dusty spear like he had used it all his life. The Water Minor swung the rocky shaft over and over again until it got caught in the palm of Gaia. The blade surely dug deep into his skin, but for some reason, no blood leaked out. Not even a cut was made. Just a trembling, brownish shaft. What…? Walter thought in surprise.

"You can't beat us," Gaia informed Walter with a grin. Walter scoffed and narrowed his eyes into mean, demonic triangles. "We have too many tricks up our sleeves while you have too little. There's too much of a difference between you and me," Gaia smirked. Everything seemed to amuse him. The rocky blade of the spear continued to tremble horridly as Walter tried harder and harder to push it into the palm of his hand. It seemed as if it would break. Damn it! Walter spat at himself in his head. Walter pressed it harder and harder until blisters showed on his hand.

"We have to help him," Mark suggested. Eric knew that all ready, but he nodded anyway. Eric seemed to be speechless when it wasn't to Walter. "Fill it with fire," Mark insisted. Eric didn't seem to understand, but he did when the time was right.

With a punch to the floor, Mark sent a wave of dirt from underground, leaving the enemy unsuspected. Mounds of dirt pushed upward like large worms were crawling underneath its first thin layer and trailed towards the lock between Walter and the foe. The rock spear rattled and shook unsteadily as Walter pressed it harder and harder, desperately trying to win over. Despite his efforts, Gaia was the clear winner of this part of the fight. With his hand held above his head, Gaia strangely blocked the dagger-like blade of the spear with just the palm of his hand, feeling no pain or blood, or not even the slightest scratch against his skin while Walter felt the blisters turn into wounds on his hands.

The traveling mounds of dirt reached Gaia and Sanshouuo's feet and unleashed a round prison of stone that surrounded the two, trapping them in surprise. They cried out as Walter held back the spear, letting the two fall into the apparent plan. The stone sphere locked them up in darkness, not giving them one whiff of air to breathe as it sealed tightly. "Okay, Eric, now!" Mark cried out as he clapped his hands together. Traces of brownish, highlighted energy surrounded his fingers and fizzled in the air as holes opened up in the stone prison, large enough to fit a head but not a body. The spherical prison seemed like a giant, whiffle ball statue. "Damn it, what are you trying to pull, stupid kid!?" Gaia's voice echoed through the opening holes that cracked eerily as they pulled wider.

Sanshouuo groaned in despair. "We don't have time for this!" he said in a rising voice, his tone angered and annoyed.

With a clap of his own hands, Eric poured out the flaming, red energy of the Half Spirit within him. He felt the temperatures rise as the heat began to form inside the giant whiffle ball. The heat churned and churned until they became sparks, and the sparks stirred until they became flames as the flames connected and connected until it became a contained wildfire. With a burst of release, Eric let the flames free, and with a crazed explosion, the holes of the stone prison hissed out the red orange flames like a million volcano mouths. The flickering, scolding wisps of flame threatened the grass beneath them and painted the trees bright. The bright hotness spilled over the three Minors' eyes as they used their hands to shield themselves from the intense flames.

The cackling blaze continued to shoot outward, its demonic laughter echoing through the forest. There was no escape for them. As the fire began to die out, hissing white smoke replaced it, swimming upward from the holes as darkness was the only thing remaining inside the prison. "It's over," Eric muttered as the flaming energy tracing his hands faded into nothingness once again. Now, everyone was left with their heavy pants, and just watched the sphere of stone that hissed with intense smoke.

PoVS

"Fishing is boring," Zack muttered from his boredom as he put a hand on his chin. His cheeks pouted childishly as he stared into the cool water, feeling the stream's blue wetness glide over calves and down. In the other hand, he held the black, poor condition fishing pole as he waited. His brownish eyes stared into the shallow waters, watching his own, misrepresented reflection. He stared into it as a pair of faded brown eyes stared back tiredly. The sunlight bounced off the running stream, giving it a bright, pale look to it in the approaching afternoon. The brisk dew of the morning had long ago made its exit, only hoping to return during the next sunrise. It suddenly dawned on Zack that the non-action was a bit boring to him as he waited for even a nibble from below. His wishes were never granted.

"We have to do it," Dylan said innocently as he waited on the other side of the stream. He sat more enthusiastically, wading his bare feet in the water playfully, feeling the coolness try to sweep against him, pushing him away. He sat by his Geta slippers, his emerald eyes peering upward to the brightness that filled the sky. They couldn't very well see the sun, but they found the fluffy whiteness try to find it for them. Dylan took in a deep breath of comfort, the exact opposite of what Zack found himself doing. He played with the handle of the fishing pole with his fingers like it was a toy as he waited patiently. "Besides, we owe it to Derek-san. We ate all the food after all. I feel so guilty about that," Dylan muttered truthfully.

Zack sighed. "Derek-san this, Derek-san that. Why are you so polite all the time?" Zack complained. Dylan looked at Zack as if he were from another planet. "Just call him Derek. He's only like, a year older than you anyway. And why do you care if we owe Derek or not? It's his problem. You're too nice," he scolded Dylan. Dylan didn't take it as a scolding.

Kawari laughed. "I think if you were a bit more formal with others, they would make a better first impression of you," he said as he sat a few feet from Zack, waiting with the fishing rod in his hand as well. He seemed more patient than Zack as well, carrying those wide, innocent white eyes and that handsome, friendly grin. Zack whined, half from boredom and the other in a wordless complaint. "At any rate," Kawari went on. "I think I should go over to the north of the stream to find more fish. Who knows? Maybe there'll be more there. I'll find you guys later," Kawari said as he picked his feet up from the stream. His bare feet touched the flustered grass, the cool, wet toes touching the drying, cold blades. It gave him a certain tingle as he picked up his slippers and his rod, stumbling towards the north of the stream. Soon, he disappeared into the forest.

Zack just watched. He was that bored that it was a necessity to watch a comrade as he disappears into the forest as they went to do the other comrades a favor. Now that he couldn't do that anymore, he was desperate to make conversation. "Hey, hey," Zack muttered to Dylan's side of the stream, smiling as they both waited for the bite they wouldn't get from their fishing hooks. Dylan flashed a curious glance. His green eyes glimmered in the sunlight as they stared blankly. "Which one of the Minors do you think I could beat up the fastest?" Zack asked as he smiled. "What about that short, lanky kid with the red hair? He's the youngest, and all he cares about is his blue-fiery headed brother."

Dylan sighed as his eyes crinkled to a sympathetic look. He peered to his side, watching the water as it rushed past. Zack continued to stare, waiting for his answer. "Zack-san, you're an idiot," Dylan muttered innocently.

"W-What?" the Wind Minor stammered. His eyes went blanker than always, if possible. He picked up his head slightly from his hand and stared at him with a bleak look. Soon, the bleak look turned into a hurtful glare. "Where did that come from? I was just asking a question," Zack scoffed, turning to his side.

"I think just because you know you're a Base Minor, you think you're better than most people in the group," Dylan spoke honestly. Anything the Botany Minor said in his regular tone would be considered truthful. The way he said, people would believe him even if he screamed that elephants had ruled the world.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Zack replied, turning back to Dylan. The Botany Minor made no eye contact with him. Zack felt somewhat rejected. Zack smirked as he still believed that he was right. It seemed that Dylan had suddenly chosen to remain quiet.

"Okay, I'm done setting up the traps," a new voice entered as it came from the trees. The voice pulled Dylan and Zack's attention towards the person. It was Derek, who stretched his leg over the bushes and began to walk calmly towards them. They stared at him, ashamed to talk for some reason. "If any enemies come in the area, I'll know right away," Derek informed his two teammates, not noticing their blank, shamed stares yet. When he finally did, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What?" he muttered bluntly, a lot less friendly than his last two statements.

Zack and Dylan didn't answer. Zack just gave a nervous wave of a hello. Derek wasn't amused. He sighed at his stupidity as he gave a mean glare, as if poking him with needled eyes to tell him the truth, or else. Derek disregarded it, and went on as he noticed something was missing. "Hey," he called their full attention. "Where's Kawari?"

"He went more north of the stream to find more fish," Dylan answered quickly. It was like he prohibited Zack to speak by speaking before him. His voice seemed flustered, which gave more proof. Suddenly, Zack didn't feel so close to Dylan. He wasn't even that close to Derek, either. He seemed to… calm-headed and serious. Those kinds of people pissed Zack off sometimes.

Derek seemed to hesitate before speaking. "I see," he muttered finally after a while, staring into the trees to the north. He gave them a hard, interrogating glare, as if they had a secret they were obviously hiding. That was all he said. He didn't seem to sit down and join his two teammates in the stream. He just kept watching the darkness between the trees, sinking thoughts into his mind one by one, as if uploading them into a computer. That guy… there's something about him… Derek thought. It just doesn't seem right. He has a supply bag like us, yet he's someone who's been forced to lock up here. I'm sure they would confiscate things like bags. He doesn't look or act like they do, and furthermore, he has supplies like fishing poles for us to use. He makes no sense to me…

Derek wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead as he realized the day was getting warmer. There were bad points to it being a good day. More enemies would be willing to come out. "Hey, Derek," Zack called out to his teammate. Dylan seemed to tense up. Derek noticed suspiciously. "You mind taking over this fish pole for me? Doing this thing for a long time is boring," Zack complained.

Derek scoffed. "Well, if you didn't eat all the food, maybe you wouldn't have to be fishing right now, Derek smiled, and glad to have Zack stuck doing something he didn't like. Dylan nodded in agreement. "Actually, I think it'll teach you something called hard work," Derek said proudly. Zack hissed, returning to his fishing pole.

Rustling came from the bushes from the north. It caught everyone's attention immediately, but it turned out it was only the friendly presence of Kawari – with a handful of fish he could barely carry. The live fish flopped around, trying to escape as their blank eyes stared accusingly. Kawari smiled as he showed them the batch of fish in one hand, putting the fishing pole of his in the other by his side. Derek raised an eyebrow suspiciously, and Zack jumped to his feet, happy that he didn't have to sit around anymore waiting.

PoVS

Hanabikai entered the dark, dimmed room of the Inner World and found Tsukansu sitting at a table, alone. The darkness was all around, yet somehow, they could still see. Everything seemed orange, even the air. The fire council knew that Tsukansu sensed his presence. He could tell by his ear twitching. It always did that when he found something nearby. "What is it, Hanabikai?" Tsukansu said in his serious voice. It was easy to tell that he too had been thinking about the future and how much it worried him so.

Hanabikai gulped. He didn't know why he was nervous. He didn't have a reason to be. "Things are intensifying," Hanabikai pointed out an obvious statement. "Do you think Walter will be all right?" he said, filtering his spiky brown hair through his long, tanned fingers. His round, brown eyes looked to Tsukansu's back, waiting for eye contact as he stood there nervously. He hadn't been this nervous in years. Things really were tensing up.

"Yeah," Tsukansu answered bluntly. "He's got Eric," he pointed out. That was what Hanabikai was worried about. Just as the Fire Council was about to make his reply, Tsukansu granted his wish for eye contact, turning around. His brown, dark eyes peered to the friendly brunette ones. Tsukansu's eyes were piercing and narrowed, thin as a needle yet lethal as a gun. "You and I turned out best friends, right? You saved me, didn't you? Remember?" Tsukansu split up the one question into several ones, flustering his closest friend among the Minors. It amused him sometimes to do that. It took his mind off worries. Hanabikai never complained, so he never stopped.

"Yeah, but…" the Fire Council went on, trailing off. He had hoped for Tsukansu to finish the sentence for him. And he did.

"Don't stress about it. You care about the ones you hold dear to you too much," Tsukansu said with a friendly smirk. "History will repeat itself. Nothing's going to happen to Walter," Tsukansu promised. Hanabikai seemed to loosen after that. He just nodded.

"But, isn't Walter from the Kasumi Family? The family that actually had most members in Void Core?" Hanabikai piqued, raising another worry from the depths of his thoughts. Tsukansu sighed.

"Yes, but he's different," Tsukansu explained. He filtered his large brown hair through his fingers that lay limply in front of his face as he went on, playing with it. "He doesn't have the eternal hunger to kill and a thirst for blood. As far as I know, all he wants is revenge on the things causing badness in his life. He must be able to know that that can be easily achieved by killing White Cloak."

Hanabikai nodded. But he still had his doubts. "Okay," he said reluctantly. Moments later, Hanabikai stepped out as Tsukansu turned back to what he was doing before his closest friend had entered. Tsukansu sighed. Although… the Water Council thought as he clasped his fingers in front of his face eerily. That wasn't how things turned out for me back then…


	72. Chapter 72

Marissa paced towards the source of the stream, her fair hair wiping her shoulders and down back and forth in a playful manner. She followed Rick and Lance, watching them as they walked side by side. Sounds of running water filled the incoming afternoon. The stench of wet swords of grass zigzagged everywhere as they lightly caressed Marissa's feet. The sky was brightly lit to a cerulean blue as overweight clouds swam through the azure universe they called their own.

Trees to the right and the running stream to the left, Marissa watched the backs of the two boys, feeling miniscule compared to them. She kept her hands at her chest insecurely as she nervously peered back and forth. Paranoia filled her sapphire eyes as she stayed alert, meticulous of her surroundings. A wretched expression lay over her face like a mask on Halloween.

Startling her, a sudden groan of shooting pain came from her direction. She gasped as she pulled backward, jumping off her feet. She brought horrified nails to her straight, white teeth as she noticed Lance stumble on his feet. He was the one who had cried out in pain. Rick pulled backward as well, peering slightly to the right as he read his teammate like a book. Lance brought his hands to his side and groaned once more, wincing in pain. His legs suddenly grew weak and began to tremble. "Lance-san!" Marissa gasped in an inhaled voice as she watched Rick come to his side.

With long, tanned fingers, Rick brought Lance to his unsteady feet, his strong hands bringing him up by the arm. Everyone froze in place as the delay began. The coolness of the air was comforting, yet ignored as the three focused on the scene at hand. "No," Lance muttered weakly, opening one eye barely. His eyelid shook as his silver-painted eye seemed unsteady. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold the skewering pain back. "You're injured," Lance reminded Rick as he brought Marissa's attention to one of Rick's hands. He was right, Marissa realized. Rick had his left hand covered in band-aids except for the fingertips. He looked like he was about to be mummified by the hands as Rick refused Lance's request.

"That won't affect me," Rick muttered with a narrow stare. His golden eyes showed that he wasn't going to stop helping Lance. "Come on!" the Lightning Minor demanded. His fingers wrapped tighter around Lance's arm, as if trying to hurt him more. The Metal Minor's sleeves creased more.

"Fine," Lance quietly muttered, reluctantly, "but I can help myself." With a powerful grunt, Rick brought Lance's arm around his shoulders to support him. Now, Lance hung at Rick's right side like an ornament on a Christmas tree. Tired features still showed on his face in a tight lock, as if he had been diseased with a fever and cold at the same time. "The cure didn't completely finish killing that poison yet," Lance said, finding it hard to speak now. Rick didn't answer. The two just continued walking.

When she finally realized that she was going to be left behind, Marissa stumbled forward, shaking away from her thoughts. She took a light breath to bring her back to reality. They always try so hard, Marissa realized as she watched the backs of the two boys so close to each other. Their speed had been slowed, which Marissa found convenient for her. They fought against that blue-armored guy by themselves, Marissa told herself. While I did nothing. Rick…

_"Don't worry. It'll be fine. Don't cry," Rick had softly whispered into her ear in the Inner World. His arms had wrapped around her like snakes – comforting snakes. The warmth of his skin wiped the tears away and his soft touch stopped the trembling._

_Then, Marissa suddenly remembered watching from half opened eyes, trying to bring herself to consciousness. She had still been constricted by that large, metallic hand. The grayish steel was cold against her skin, and almost to a point where it was freezing. Her eyes opened to not even an accepted point as she watched, half in darkness and half seeing Rick's glowing arms like a hope through the forest. She remembered the prickly feeling of the tree's trunk against the back of her skin. She remembered Rick's hand's eerie glow as he made a promise to protect his friends. "No one gets to my friends without killing me first," he had confidently told off. He was so brave… so strong… and at that moment; Marissa couldn't keep herself up anymore. Her eyes forced themselves shut, and she fell back into the darkness of unconsciousness._

Why? Marissa thought. Why am I always the one that never does anything? Marissa remembered her and Lance's first conversation.

_"I hate it when people think they're the topic of everything, it's completely conceited and useless to everyone else that's with you at the time," Lance had said with narrow eyes. His large, silver gaze glimmered in the flickering light like steel in sun._

_"I think this picture is done," Lance had said, showing her the perfect portrait of Marissa's appearance – except that there was a large "LOSER" written across her crinkled forehead._

Marissa had fumed over it and mocked him for it. She then screamed at Rick for not doing anything for her. He was right, Marissa thought. I really did use to think I was the center of everything. I really was a loser, because I actually expected people to do things for me, to spoil me. I just pretended all the time like I didn't see it, like it was never there. Why…? Marissa thought, feeling useless and unwanted as a beady tear ran down her cheek. It left a trail of glimmering wetness as it clung to her chin before falling to its doom. She felt her nose tingle inside as more tears wanted to follow the first. She refused to let them go. She squinted the tears away, shaking her head as she blushed uncontrollably, feeling herself lose power over her body functions. The weak tears gave up soon enough and left her be, giving her some comfort. I want to do something…. Something for them for once. Something that will prove that I'm not useless, and that I can do something good if I want to.

Suddenly, she found the chance. Sensing another presence across the stream, she gasped as she threw a glowing light frantically across the stream. The yellowish light was a trick she used as a Sound Minor that when it was touched twice, it would explode into immense vibrations. The shimmering sphere exploded loudly as blistering sound waves erupted. It shook the stream's currents and turned heads as the banshee's screech filled their ears.

"What happened, Marissa?" Rick demanded frantically, calling her attention. Marissa took a nervous breath as she knew she was in trouble. She swallowed hard, looking for her voice as she looked shamefully downward. She couldn't bear to have Rick's eyes attempt a search into hers. It was too painful to experience.

"I-I thought I heard something," Marissa muttered shyly. She tried hard to hold back the tears this time as she hid her sadness the best she could. Her hair hung limply behind her sadly, as if all the enthusiasm dragged out of it as well. Now, the cool soft breezes that happened ever so often was the only thing that moved them. Her azure eyes hid from Rick's critical gaze.

Rick sighed. "Try not to do something so loud to alert the enemy next time," he suggested as Marissa nodded carefully. "We could get in big trouble in our team's condition right now," Rick warned. Again, Marissa nodded, this time more full of shame. "Don't be so paranoid."

"S-Sorry," Marissa answered unsteadily. She could feel her voice begin to crack into tiny little shards as she caught her breath before it became noticeable. She kept her glare harder on the floor, making sure that not even one with the largest range of sight in the world could see her. She swallowed hard, forcing down the knot in her throat that seemed to tighten and tighten over and over again. Her eyes swelled beneath her eyelid barriers

Lance stirred weakly at Rick's side. "Don't be so hard on her," he muttered in a silent whisper as Rick turned back and continued walking. Rick didn't seem to reply. Marissa began to follow the two boys, keeping her distance now. She kept her hands folded at her waist as she bowed her head down, not wanting to look up anymore. She kept an eye on their feet, though, and resumed following them. I don't want to get in the way anymore, she told herself.

As they continued walking, the location where Marissa had thrown that sound sphere continued to smoke dust and whiteness into the air, hissing like a newly dead fire. All the while, underwater in the azure blue stream came a blackish figure, swimming expertly through it, its feet flinging like chopsticks. It went so fast that you could only catch a glimpse of it as you lost sight of it, leaving a trail of bubbles to follow before they faded away.

PoVS

Teresa, Daniel and Kenneth continued to rush through the trees. Teresa kept their trail, keeping just the right distance away from them. Not too far, yet not too close. The two boys of the team jumped side by side, their closeness never waned. Teresa wished she had that. She had memories of times when she had that closeness – those relations with other people that kept her happy and smiling. But she didn't believe in that anymore. She knew that relations only end up with hurt and pain. That's what she believed… isn't it? She didn't know. She often shook her head, blurring the thoughts away from her as she tried to take her mind off of it. She was afraid that if she stopped believing so, she would get hurt again. And no one likes emotional pain.

The cool air went against them as they rushed past the limbs of trees, as if protesting their path and direction. Lush green heads swayed like olive clouds, leaves rustling here and there like a hidden conversation behind the team's backs. Thick wooden bodies stood in their way with their fingers pointed to every other direction as if telling them to go anywhere else but where they had chosen to. Brightness filtered through the bald spots of the heads, and conceived the only light in the forest.

Punctured holes from above showed godly blue. Teresa took a deep breath, noticing something strange. She made a peculiar look as she breathed again, making sure. Her features turned more curious and puzzled. No way… she thought, as the tension released from her face. That scent… she thought as she turned her head backward. She found nothing but trees waving good bye and wishing them luck, shrinking into a blackness hole deep into the forest. Her violet eyes shook unsteadily as she turned forward, making sure Daniel and Kenneth were still there for her own security. She didn't want to be alone. Not with this eerie feeling she had. "Daniel-san," she called to the Minor who fit the title of leader.

Daniel didn't turn back as he replied. "What is it, Teresa-san?" he said, sounding like nothing but business. His red hair was flustered from the denying breezes. He brought a finger to his nose to pick up his glasses. Faint sunlight reflected off the rectangular spectacles. The violet-haired girl had caught Kenneth's attention, too, causing him to peer backward to catch a glimpse of the confused, tensed face of Miroku Teresa.

"I scent something wrong," Teresa told him, taking in another whiff just to make sure. It was definite now. The stench had gotten worse. Her violet hair became bristled by the forcing winds. All of the scenery seemed to go against them, and Teresa had to admit, at this point, she agreed with it.

"What is it?" Kenneth asked the question for his brother. Daniel still didn't turn back. He kept a sharp eye for what laid ahead of them. Kenneth was like his partner at this point. Daniel really changed, Teresa thought. He used to be so weak and silent, and now he takes so much control. Then, Teresa shook her head, knowing that it wasn't the time to be thinking such a thought. She had to focus on the task at hand.

"It… it smells like…" Teresa couldn't find herself to finish the sentence. It was either that, or… she just dind't want to. She smelled it again, making extra sure. She wanted it to not be true. Oh, how she wanted the scent to be so unreal that it was a hallucination of her psychotic life. She could tell Daniel wanted her to hurry up and say it. His features on the back of his neck tensed up. "Blood," Teresa let out in a sigh.

Kenneth's eyes widened as he turned back to watch Teresa. His steps from limb to limb had become more careful and lighter. Even his icy gaze turned frozen. Daniel's steps had become more meticulous as well as he jumped slower from tree to tree. Teresa could tell he was thinking of what to say, hiding his reaction.

With meticulousness, Daniel peered to the left, then the right. His eyes were narrowed as he picked up his glasses again, the faint sunlight pouring off of it once more. All he found was pillars of trees that flew by as they rushed past. Then, he looked behind him, and then up, then down. Still nothing strange. Once more he picked up his glasses, and once more the sunlight reflected. "Teresa," he called the attention of the violet-haired girl.

"What is it?" she asked, watching his back. His clothes fluttered as cold breezes intervened him, knowing no privacy. Teresa wondered what he could have wanted to ask.

"For how long now have you been noticing the scent? What was the condition of it over time?" Daniel asked in a blunt voice. She could tell he wanted a straightforward answer. No explanations. Just tell me what I want to hear, is what Daniel had basically told her.

"For the past ten minutes," Teresa answered respectively. She cleared her throat, wanting to speak louder. Her voice was always so low because she wasn't used to talking. "It's been getting stronger as we've been getting closer to the gate," she told the other part of his question.

"I see," Daniel said finally as he stopped rushing from tree to tree. He landed on the next branch lightly, crouching from the energy he released as soon as his feet touched the wooden limb. Kenneth and Teresa caught his actions. They widened their eyes in alert as they stepped onto respective tree branches as well. They crouched from the energy they released, and watched Daniel for direction. The redhead's face was tight in thought, locked in his own clever thinking. He closed his eyes, taking a sample of the air's scent. The stench of dried blood was so intense it was hard to miss. He couldn't believe he missed that detail. "Okay then," he said finally, having the solution. "We'll stop here for now," he told them. "If it's getting more intense as we get closer and closer to the gate, maybe there's danger ahead. We just got out of a fight so I don't think we're too prepared for another one. At least, I'm not."

Kenneth and Teresa nodded respectively. They traded glances with each other, and placed their attention back to Daniel. "We'll stay down there for a while, and when we come back up, if the smell still hasn't gone away, we'll just head for the gate anyway. Got it?" Daniel said seriously, sounding so clever and smart for the youngest Minor in the group. He was the fourteen year old one, anyway.

Once again, the two teammates nodded and traded glances. With a jump off the branch, Daniel headed straight downward towards the dirt caked ground. Kenneth came second, being the braver. Teresa came last, taking one final look behind her as she felt a presence glide over her, rubbing her like a soft pillow you slept on that was alive. A soft breeze blew by as a reaction, carrying three blackish leaves to their funeral. Teresa swallowed hard once more.

Soon, the three found themselves on the dirt ground, and began walking towards the right. "What do we do now?" Kenneth asked, picking up his speed to catch up with his brother who was smoothly walking towards the more bushy part of the forest. Kenneth caught his brother with a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," Daniel answered bluntly. Teresa wondered if it was because he was tired that he sounded so lean and difficult. "I have to train and work on my accuracy. I felt it slipping in the last fight," Daniel told the two. "Maybe you two should train as well. It would help to learn a new technique instead of using some random attacks when you're in danger."

Now on cue, the two other teammates nodded and glanced at each other. Kenneth cleared his throat, thinking of an idea. "Oh yeah," Daniel said, finally turning his body to face Teresa and his brother. His greenish glare was the least bit friendly. Blackish bags hung under his eyes like memoirs of sleepless days. "Don't tire yourselves out too much. We don't know what'll come up next."

Of course, the two subordinates just had to nod once more. Teresa looked to the palm of her hand as she began to walk behind the two boys again. Her steps were steady and light across the dirt ground, crunching the half-dead grass blades as she proceeded forward. The lined, blade-like triangle that was embedded in the palm of her hand that lay between her index finger and thumb began to release purple wisps of energy. Hardness escaped those palm lines and grew out of her hand like a horn as the idea in her mind grew and expanded.

PoVS

Eric, Walter, and Mark watched the stone whiffle ball as white smoke continued to hiss out of it like a snake's hungry cry. Mark swallowed hard, nervousness consuming him, eating away at his limbs and body in a torture that wouldn't stop. Walter watched with confidence, ready for just about anything, claming his nerves as he shifted his weight. Eric watched blankly, still amazed at Walter's performance, and in awe at the hissing whiteness.

The holes inside the stone prison now showed nothing but darkness inside. Mark was too afraid to move and check. Walter and Eric chose to wait just in case. They played the smartest move.

A loud rumbling came from the stone sphere, and long, growing cracks began to appear on its shell. Walter let out an exhale from his nose as he changed his stance. Eric clenched his fists tightly, preparing himself. The knot in Mark's throat came back and began to expand.

The cracks made themselves longer and longer until bits of stone began to fall off like broken armor. Then, as if a burst of impatience, a huge explosion erupted from the center of the shell. Black smoke fumed into the air, the same clouds that wanted someone to talk to – anyone. A light redness spilled over leaning bodies of trees, the ebony puffs spreading everywhere in hate and revenge. Eric was the one who swallowed hard now. His fingernails began to dig deep into the palm of his hand, and he had to try really hard considering how he barely had any.

The wind picked up and the smoke was swept away easily and quickly. The green and red eyed opponents stared narrowly at their three opponents, Gaia smiling his entertained, unrestrained smile as Sanshouuo kept his grin closed and impatient, anger fuming between his lips. They were totally unharmed, not even a charred mark on their discolored skin. "Damn it," Sanshouuo grinned, as if he had been through a thirty mile race with a body not fit for it. "These guys have wasted enough of our time," he croaked in an edgy manner.

"Damn it… they got out!" Walter clenched his fists tightly as he narrowed his eyes. His voice was low and somewhat calm. He reeled in his fist, as if getting ready to punch something in closer range.

Gaia seemed to change his expression into a more alert one. He widened his eyes and hung down his mouth in a light gasp as fear began to edge at the sides of his features. "What're you doing just standing around for!?" he cried out swiftly and impatiently to his brother. He tried not to waste any time with his sentences. "Brother! Do it now!" he demanded.

"Yeah, yeah!" Sanshouuo said loudly and hastily, finding no time to think. Suddenly, the two bones brought themselves together and one twitched the other one like sparking a match. Once that tiny little flick was made, the whole area inside and out of where the three Minors stood caught them by surprise in a wide, blasting explosion. The loud crashing noise screamed in a panic into their ears, deafening them as they were overwhelmed by surprise. Dust and smoke blew everywhere as they had no time to think – no time to move or escape. Explosions piled everywhere over and over again, and the swirling, blackish fog took them away… and brought them to a new home.


	73. Chapter 73

Warm, soft coziness heated the side of Minoa's face. Darkness wrapped her in her solitary egg of orange light. The dim circle seemed to be her guide, only working for her. Her white hair flustered, the dwindling shaft of a waxy candle glimmered holily as it wore its crown of light, a head of flame to show for it. The flickering ember was knocked from side to side, a speed bag of practice to the miniature, invisible boxing gloves. Softly, Minoa stuttered herself awake, stirring as her head rolled on her arm. She let out a drowsy moan as her paled eyes gracefully showed themselves. They awoke with a curiosity; taking a moment to recognize its surroundings. They were filled with sand, ready to be rubbed away.

Minoa took a fresh breath, raising her head slowly from her pillow of a forearm. The hotness dispersed away from the right side of her, a heavy feeling inside her forehead that begged for more sleep. Her eyes were not a bit heavy; her unawake teeth letting the cool air seep through its tiny pores slowly. A certain uncomforting feeling rubbed around her, slowly disturbing her. Her breath was hot, her cheeks were hot, the inside of her clothes were hot – everything was hot. Her legs were heavy, reluctant to move after a nap. Surprised that she had dozed off, Minoa forced the weight off her legs. She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts, feeling a bit unusual to wake up in the middle of the day. Right now, she was feeling emotionless, her bodily functions beginning to settle in again.

Despite her dysfunctional state, she started her first few seconds of awareness live and refreshed. Her body was, but her mind was not. It took her a while to realize where she was. She figured she had dozed off when Dirondo and her hadn't spoken in a while, and just observed Jeremy. Minoa's paled eyes glowed with hints of the flickering flames before it. The humble flame continued to dance its slow, unskillful dance, not the least bit embarrassed of who was watching. If only people were more like that. A blank, featureless gaze watched the bright flame, the most attention catching thing in the room. Then, it came to her – Dirondo. Where was she? Had she left the room?

Frantically, yet slowly, she looked around. Her hot hand's fingers tipped the surface of the cool table. Nothing but darkness, she realized. Feeling no need for a voice, she slowly rose from the wooden chair. Her back seemed too bent as she stretched her limbs, her seat screeching backward. She withheld the desperate need for a yawn, finding such a thing unruly and distracting. She winced as she brought her hands to rub away the uncomfortable sand. She took another breath, not finding enough to satiate her needs. The golden pan of the candle next to her filled more with the jelly-like wax as she walked past it, finding no need for it.

I can't doze off now, she told herself heavily. It's too dangerous… we don't know who – or what could – Suddenly, her thoughts were cut off. A loud metallic clang came from a direction, followed by a fearful, demonic growl, drawing her quick attention forward. She jerked her head in the direction, awaiting something to creep from the shadows. She cleared her throat to clam herself, taking a deep yet light breath to calm her nerves. "Who's there?" she asked, trying to get used to her voice. From the shadows rolled out a long teacup of olive green, some of the herbal drink spilling out like a recently closed pipe. It rolled with such skill – trying desperately to make a full circular turn. Minoa showed no signs of nervousness, nor was she nervous. She approached the darkness with meaningful eyes. "Who's there?" she asked again in a more demanding voice.

This time, a delicate, fair hand leaked from the darkness. Its mannered fingers reached for the long, wavy shaft of the bamboo teacup. It made no sound as its long, curved fingers picked it up in the most graceful way, as if out of energy. Together, they sunk back into the darkness, and a new figure revealed itself. Dirondo stepped out, her shoes lightly scraping the floor in an affectionate purr. "Sorry," she said quietly, as if trying to keep the volume down, trying to keep someone – something to continue being unaware of her presence.

"How is he doing?" Minoa asked, relaxing herself further as she approached her council mate. She entered her mind for just a second to make sure it was her. In this world, you can't assume anything anymore, and you have to be completely prepared at all times for anything, because in here, the impossibilities became possible. Her shoulders dropped at their sockets, relaxing them as assurance entered Minoa's mind. Now, she awaited her dreaded answer.

Dirondo seemed to hesitate. "He…" she began, unsure of what to say. "I really don't know how to say this," she said, peering to the right corner of her eye. She refused to make direct eye contact for who knows why. She tapped her foot nervously behind her as her arms held each other behind her back.

"He's not dead?" Minoa said, anxiety replacing her heart beat. "Is he?" she said with completion, swallowing hard for the result. She felt no time to clench her fist and grit her teeth.

"No, of course not," Dirondo replied, returning her eyes to Minoa. The Mind Council sighed in relief as Dirondo made an undecipherable look on her face. "I just can't really tell if he's gotten worse or better," she explained. "The time intervals for the black holes are getting longer and longer, which is good, but he's getting more beast-like. I think he's losing his grip," she told her.

"I see…" Minoa said, peering past Dirondo's shoulder. With a tiresome grumble, Minoa walked past her council mate, and the blonde followed. Their aura of light continued to praise them with sight as it rubbed off on the golden gates with their thin, thread-like bars of restraint. Minoa ran her fingers over the seal that locked the middle of the gate, the fresh painted blood having an already dried and ancient look. She was careful not to disrupt the Japanese character's structures as she looking into the darkness. She found a pair of dark, ebony eyes that narrowed evilly. Pale strands of white hair showed themselves, too, unafraid. An unwanted grin somehow made its way through as well, the tip of a chin showing. Minoa felt shivers start all over. I can't believe that became this much worse than we expected it to be in such a short amount of time. Normally, our prediction was for him to be like this in at least twenty years. He's only done this in days since the Minors finished training with us. If he's not who we think he is… then what is he?

"Can you see how he's doing?" Dirondo suddenly asked. Her question took Minoa by surprise, forcing her head to turn back. The Mind Council gave a puzzled look. "I mean, on the inside," Dirondo cleared up. Minoa nodded and turned back, having a sense of understanding.

Tracing her fingers down the cool, golden imprisoning strings, Minoa shook off her goose bumps. She calmed herself, breathing through her nostrils as she closed her eyes, focusing. With a burst of energy, she reopened her eyes, as if she were about to fight, and the pentacle eyes returned to the pale orbs. "Joukei no Ankoku! Yoshiki Ichi! –Sight of Darkness! Form One!-" Minoa declared as the black starred eyes peered right into the darkness. With another burst of energy, she furthered her technique. "Yoshiki Ni! –Form Two-" With that declaration, a large dark traced pentacle grew on her forehead like an embellishment of makeup, something she never used. "Yoshiki San! –Form Three!-" Minoa declared once more, this time, claw like patterns growing from her jaws and stretching through her cheeks. The kanji character for comfort showed on the back of her neck, hidden behind her wave of hair.

I'll have to be careful at this stage, Minoa told herself. If I go any further, it gets dangerous. This is my limit, she told herself strictly as the burning sensation of the effects on her face wore off. "Miroku Shuzoku: Hireki Hiou! –Miroku Family: Revealed Secrets!-" With her last burst of energy, Minoa's eyes and darkened patterns on her face began to intensify, glowing with an intense blue energy. Her eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness, dividing it in her disgraced appearance. She looked right through the darkness, right into Jeremy's own disgraceful appearance, and began at the first later of his mind. With this, I'll enter through the layers that compose his inner thoughts and consciousness, and I'll have a better understanding of what's going on.

Flashing blues and greens faced themselves in front of her, until she was completely consumed by a white light, the intense, hot glow overeating her. Then, with a knock of sense, it spit her out, as if giving a hard hit to the side of her face. She cried out in pain as she was forced to squint her eyes, the darkened patterns on her face sinking backward into her eyes. She stumbled on her feet, Dirondo catching her by the arms.

Lying in Dirondo's hands, Minoa began to speak weakly, as if she had just gotten up from another nap. "He's… having trouble," she explained. Dirondo flashed her turn of a puzzled face. "There's interference," she said weakly, her voice beginning to rasp outward from her resistant lips. "It's… it's too much to take in… he's in too much danger right now. I don't know how long…" Minoa seemed to trail off. She tried hard to keep her consciousness up. "How long until he finally breaks down… I can only see into him just enough to see his supports." Dirondo nodded, satisfied. She brought Minoa up to her feet, and decided to let her lay down.

PoVS

Tension rose. No sense of protection was hinted anywhere. No feeling of safety found. Eric held his arms in front of him, as if to block out the sun's intensifying light. Ashes and black, threatening puffs of smoke tried to eat at him. Without a feeling of protection, normal people would feel somewhat scared- unable to move. But it was different for Eric. Long ago, he had decided that he _was_ the sense of protection. He wouldn't let someone else take over his job. It was his purpose.

Eric let his arms fall back to his sides, readied just in case he needed them once more. A strong humming surrounded him as his eyes were completely clouded in the rising smoke that seemed to always last. His squinted eyes uneasy as they looked from left to right to give his teammates a sense of their protection, he looked to his feet. The red clothed boy found silver energy at his feet. It seemed to disperse away, forming a defensive circle around him. It withered away smoothly, as if to whisper to Eric, "I was never here," and just disappeared into nothingness again. What… is that? Eric asked himself.

Suddenly, a loud coughing caught his attention. Eric peered to his left finding Mark covering his mouth with his arm, hacking into it in the most retching way ever. His eyes squinted hard from the overwhelming force of his coughs. "Eric…" he groaned out in an uneasy voice. "Where's Walter…?" he said, coughing between words. His loud bursts seemed to give no comfort. Eric had his eyes fixed on Mark's feet that seemed to have the exact silver glow around them he had noticed on his own as he carefully deciphered his teammate's words. Then it suddenly hit him.

Walter! Eric realized. The Fire Minor widened his eyes as he peered to his right, hoping to find his friend. He tried to decide if he should run aimlessly through the smoke searching for him, but he knew that was a waste of energy – and leaving Mark here in his current condition would take away his sense of protection. How could he be both for Walter and Mark at the same time?

In another part of the fogging smoke, Walter seemed to be the least bit tired. His brown hair was ruffled, yet he didn't care. His arms hung limp from his shoulders, he took heavy breaths, feeling the silver, half-transparent energy sink back into him like needles slowly injecting their bodies into your skin – your veins. Damn it… he thought weakly as the glowering energy faded back into him. I was able to rescue the whole team, but… if I had to go to such lengths and use such a thing that I forbid myself… I may not be able to beat those two, he told himself as he imaged their smirking, impatient faces. Sanshouuo's furious, intolerant eyes of bloody red and Gaia's entertained, carefree eyes of disregard. I may not be able to… he began to repeat in his mind again. No! He told himself in a scolding voice. I can't think like that. Not here, not now. If I can't beat these two… then I can't beat them…he gave himself pep talk, the image of Gaia and Sanshouuo turning into shady characters with demonic, starry eyes. A whole bunch of them faced different directions, representing the hardcore faces of Void Core.

He clenched his fist tightly as his body dropped downward, his legs tired yet refusing to be. I made a promise to myself, he reminded his own spirit. That I would definitely kill each and every one of them… no matter how I gain that power. Right now, I'm weak… but, I have enough potential to beat these guys. I have enough power to show that I can beat, _kill_ these guys. I'm not giving up! I'm not losing here! Walter demanded of himself. I'll do it, he concluded. I'll do it if I have to. I'll use _that_ move. As long as it shows them that I can beat them. As long as it shows them that I'm not weak, and that I do have a purpose! And that purpose isn't just some resolution unable to be kept! Walter felt the anger rise in himself as his teeth grit against each other tightly. He forced it and forced it until it became painful. He had enough heavy breathing for now. His confidence was taken even further. I'll _kill_ them! Walter promised himself. Inside, another half of him seemed to smirk, delighted and amused. Silver energy began to pour outward from his body again.

Outside the float of smoke, Sanshouuo and Gaia waited impatiently, both for different reasons. Sanshouuo wanted to get the job over with. He knew _he_ would be mad. Gaia just seemed to want to enjoy a kill. But it seemed so hard to even get that nowadays. "Not yet. They're not dead yet," Sanshouuo grumbled irritably.

"Damn it," Gaia commented back in a rising, angry voice. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes into hateful slits. "They just won't die!"

"He's going to be mad," Sanshouuo reminded Gaia. "Let's end this," the red-eyed one suggested. Gaia nodded. "Atusa Hangan! –Heat Bullets-" Sanshouuo cried out as he waved a blast of his hand, pellets of blistering heat bursting outward into the air like a parade of hissing attacks.

The sizzling pieces of intense hotness shuffled into the cloud of smoke, making a surefire hit. Cries of surprise and pain flew out of the smoke as the three teammates were knocked backward towards each other. Damn it! Walter thought as he gritted his teeth tighter. The three boys rolled in the dust, getting smoke and ash all over their bodies. "Die!" Gaia demanded into the smoke. "Chiri Rantouba! –Dirt Cemetery-"

Mark was the only one cried out, the other two taken by surprise as the dirt behind their backs wrapped around them in a coffin, burying over them as if they were memories long wanted to be forgotten. Muffled cries from Mark's dirt pile sounded from underneath the brownness, the banging of fists echoing outward in a helpless S.O.S. "Not yet!" Sanshouuo cried out, waving his arms once more in the air. With a helpless cry, Mark's wishes were granted. Taken by surprise, a loud explosion came from each dirt bed the three Minors found themselves under, blowing dirt all over the air above them as their bodies were flung into the air from the explosion.

All three made helpless cries and shocked, widened faces as they were overtaken, their bodies now zooming through the air and landing further towards the trees. More dust and smoke piled towards the sky, the unwanted opposites of clouds finding no direction to go but a reluctant ascent. Trees rustled excitedly as the battle intensified more and more, more sweat and more blood pouring from everyone. Hailing pieces of dirt came raining downward like an early shower. The drops of brown began to cake against the three teammate's clothes. Mark was the only one who seemed to care. "What's this feeling?" Mark asked as he looked at his hand. The tanned skin was being layered over with a bubbling sensation, a sizzling feeling that took over him like a visible infection that spread like the fastest poison. Hotness soon wrapped around him, and he could feel the light breezes of the wind no more.

The hotness wrapped around all three Minors, and as the last cloud of dust climbed away to join its fellows, the grinning face of Gaia and the irritated one of Sanshouuo appeared from far away. "Don't try to move too much in those," Sanshouuo threatened. "If you do, you'll be blown to pieces. Those coats of heat are very friction-sensitive, and one strong movement or even one deep breath will blow your bodies to bits," he explained.

Eric and Mark widened their stares. "Nice try, but not me," Walter scolded as he got up to his feet, climbing slowly as he found his legs unsteady. Walter looked up to meet glares with Sanshouuo. As the hot, blurry coat slid off of his arms and body like unwanted slime, wet skin replaced it, and carried the heat away.

Damn it, Sanshouuo narrowed his eyes into mean stripes of belittlement. He wiped away the blanket of heat with water. "Why don't you just stay like that and die! You annoying brat!" Sanshouuo shouted angrily, annoyed at how much he could avoid the techniques they threw at them. Eric and Mark stood completely still, keeping their eyes on Walter. They were careful not to make any sudden movements that would cause their death. Mark swallowed uneasily. Eric seemed much calmer than he. "I told you before, didn't I?" Walter replied. He caught the attention of Sanshouuo and his brother. "I said I'd kill you if you got in the way of my purpose!" Walter said with a loud, confident voice, picking up his glance to lock his with Sanshouuo's. It was hard to tell which one's was more intense and filled with murderous attempt. "I won't let a weakling like you get in my way!" Walter mocked, his body seeming weak yet his voice showing no signs of it. His brown eyes were filled with deep, unforgettable meaning.

"That's unusual talk for someone who's talking about himself," Gaia commented back. Walter decided not to waste his time with a verbal argument. It was time to settle this with pain. Physical pain. And even though Walter knew inner pain hurt more, inflicting outer pain was the fastest – and more active way of killing. It was pointless now to fight with words.

"I'll kill you," was the last thing Walter said as the silver energy began to intensify at his arms, and took over him like an outlined cartoon completely. The ominous glow gave everyone in the scene a curious look to them, no matter how small, you had to admit that you were thinking the exact same though as everyone else: Just what is that silver energy?


	74. Chapter 74

Damn it! Eric thought. With this heat around me I can't…! He didn't find the need to complete the sentence. The blazing sun was heavy on Eric's tense body. He was careful not to move an inch – scared of what he could lose. An arm? He guessed. A leg? My head? The bubbling heat continued to wrap around him, as if he were a fragile, beloved treasure around blistering hands. I can't move… I can't protect Walter or Mark! But I have to! It's my purpose… I can't lose someone else again! Eric demanded of himself as he pictured his mother's last old and wrinkled smile, her face baggy like a teenager's jeans. I won't…. let… that happen… again!

Eric gritted his teeth as he tried hard to move. This heat blanket must be user operated. So even if it is friction-sensitive, that salamander guy has to focus to increase that level of friction to an explosion. Without him, it's nothing but a hot armor. Also, it's thickening by the second, making it hard to move... damn it! Eric tried to bring his arms to his face. His tanned forearms felt heavy like two ton boulders, only moving inches from all the effort given. Damn it…! he cried out in his thoughts once more.

The sun, a blazing circle of light in the distance of the sky continued to intensify. Its blinding light peeled off the clouds as it approached them, slowly attaining the acceptance of the cloudy boats sailing in the azure world. The trees' heads seemed to inch toward the scene as if getting up from their seats and leaning in awe to see the fight. Their wooden limbs cheered in a chant of confidence. Wandering, dusty smoke continued to cloud the scenery. It swayed in every direction possible. Walter… Eric hoped. Just give me some time. I'll help you… if it's the last thing I do, I'll help you – save you.

Gaia scoffed, amused. "I'm surprised you can stand up, stupid brat," Gaia mocked Walter. The Water Minor didn't answer and shifted his weight, narrowing his eyes meanly. "You can't even free your friends at this point. The only you couldn't gotten out is because you dampened the heat from the inside. But that's a different story than from the outside, isn't it?" Walter narrowed his eyes once more, and shifted his feet, making himself more prepared with a bit of nervousness. That nervousness was nothing compared to his want – no, need to fight. "From the inside, you can blast water from the tiny pores that are friction sensitive located in random areas of the heat armor, which bursts it apart and carried it away. However, from the outside, there are no pores that are friction sensitive, since they only have a purpose if they go against the victim's skin; therefore there is no need for them to be on the outside. Because of that, there is no way your water can enter and break the heat armor," Gaia explained. He chuckled and grinned, excited. "Isn't that right?"

"I told you," Walter said calmly, gripping his fists tightly. "I'll take you down. I won't let you get in my way," he explained, his cool headedness never leaving him. "And also," Walter added. "There is no reason why you should be surprised," he told, referring to Gaia's first statement. Gaia scoffed meanly, narrowing his eyes into grudged slits. His envy emerald eyes seemed piercing. With that last word, Walter rushed outward. One second, he was there in your sight, the next, he was a blur. Dust trailed behind him as the darting blur made its way through the forest.

Prepared, Gaia put his arm out and shielded himself from a drop kick. The defense gave the forest audience a glimpse at their favorite fighter, the most talented Minor. Flipping through the air, Walter made expert flips above the fused enemies. Twirling his body like an acrobat he delivered multiple punches and kicks as he slowly wheeled down to the ground. It was as if he were too talented for gravity. They continued the round of punching, Gaia smirking as he enjoyed himself, Sanshouuo groaning in impatience. With Walter's last punch, Gaia's scythe-like bone from the back blocked the impact, taking the reduced damage.

With a hateful throw, it sent Walter flying backward. The skilled Minor skid on the dirt ground, dragging dust with him as he gained his balance once again. With another blurry rush, Walter took off again, sending another rush of angry punches and kicks. Dodging to his side to escape from a slash of bone, Walter sent them flying to the edge of the field with a strengthened palm as he let out a despaired cry of hate. "I won't let you get in the way!" he declared as their body was knocked against a tree. A clattering fall brought them to their knees, giving them a hard time to get up.

"Damn…" Sanshouuo muttered irritably. "This kid won't shut up!" he groaned in an upset rasp as he and his brother got up to their weakened feet. It took a while for them to get used to those human legs. "How vexing."

"Let's show him," Gaia said with a weak grin. Sanshouuo nodded, finding it too hard to speak. Gaia's crooked smile grew into a deviance of unexplainable quantity. "Chiri Nadare! –Dirt Avalanche!-"

With a burst of quaking earth, the dirt in front of the two enemies in one body began to rise with a great current. Its tidal look seemed deadly as it elevated threateningly. The ground hissed and shook as it churned upward, the crackling earth shaking beneath the Minors' weak feet. Walter scoffed at the challenge. Walter screamed as he charged forward. The wave of brown seemed to react, leaning toward Walter as well. The two sides neared each other, the forest full of audience waiting to see the collision. Mouths dropped open and wide grins grew as everyone waited to see the outcome.

A long shadow fell upon Walter as he charged, his battle cry filling his ears with a confident beat. He watched the base of the avalanche coming toward him, and felt the least bit challenged. Had he gone completely crazy? No. He's just become completely full of his purpose. Yards away from the dirt wave, its base launched sharpened clay. It fired from the shifting brown like gunfire, bursting from the half liquid substance.

With a haul, Walter stopped in his tracks and brought his hands to the ground before him. "Maina Mizu: Suidangan!" The aquatic bullets sprang from his back again and eliminated the danger of the sharp, clay shards. Bits of yellow rock flew everywhere as the pressurized water fell limp to the floor in tiny drops. Resuming his charge of bravery, Walter neared and neared the base of the leaning tower of mud and dirt. The shadows became overwhelming, and took his eyes away. His wounds hadn't healed yet. The blood kept coming down from his head and body, yet he ignored them. Ignored them completely as if they were just a tiny nuisance – a second's worth sensation that you shouldn't become to close to.

PoVS

The sky was bright with the sun's blunt light. Cloudy ferries rocked past as they waded through the sky's blueness. It was a whole another world up there, because it was so different. Because the smell of death threatening blood didn't linger everywhere, because not every second of your life was risked and not every moment you lived wasn't in danger. And it wasn't just the Swamp of Mystery. It was the whole world that the Minors lived in now. The whole world they had caught themselves in, and the ones they have to be careful for now. Discipline was a necessity. Unfortunately, one from a certain group didn't have the slightest idea of what that meant.

"I can't believe these wounds from Madasora hadn't even healed yet!" Zack complained. His eyes slanted in a childlike manner as he watched his bandaged forearms. The pain had left but it was a bit annoying to have mummified arms. He sighed as he held the skewered fish in the other hand.

"Stop complaining," Derek insisted with a groan. He didn't make eye contact with Zack. He just sighed in belittlement as he brought tanned fingers through his spiky black hair. "At least you don't have a permanently damaged chest," he said, referring to the black bandages wrapped around him underneath his black garment.

"He's right, Zack-san," Dylan muttered through a full mouth. Chunks of fish sputtered out as he closed his eyes in enlightenment, his cheeks going round and round and his jaw going up and down in a satiating hunger. In one hand, he held the hot wooden skewer with the burnt fish. Its body was blackened and ashy from the fire, its mouth wide open in a guilt-jerking shock, its eyes beady like ebony pearls drained of life. The smell of cackling ash and the thick scent of cooked fish filled the air. The light of the burning fire spilled on everyone's face as they sat in a circle. "You shouldn't complain. It's not a permanent damage, and it's not bleeding, either," Dylan went on. He stopped chewing and gave a loud swallow, feeling the hot fish plop in the pit of his stomach. "My wound stings and is still bleeding a little. You should be grateful you left that battle without wounds. Even more than that, Zack-san," As Dylan went on, Zack gave a bored, murderous look at Dylan. His eyes seemed to be filled with boredom that was vexed by Dylan's constant nagging. "As Minors, we have no time to worry for small wounds that don't matter," Dylan finished up. Zack sighed, closing his bored eyes of murder.

Derek scoffed and peered to the forest. Sunlight filtered from every which way. "We have to get going after this," he said in his strong, deep voice. His legs were spread out, as if trying to wrap around the fire. He supported himself with his hands on the dirt ground. "The smell of fish and fire is bound to attract enemies," he said with his eyes wandering off. His handsome, dark eyes seemed to identify everything in the forest, being very watchful of his surroundings. Dylan agreed cheerfully. Zack seemed to become more uncomfortable. Derek felt the perspiration begin on his brow.

"What's the matter, Kawari-san?" Dylan asked in a fatherly voice with a delicate tone to match. The blue haired boy jerked his head upward, not have taken a bite of his skewered fish. He cried out in acknowledgement, snapping himself away from his thoughts. Dylan looked at him blankly and a bit suspiciously, although he was never really suspicious of him.

"Oh, nothing," Kawari said unenthusiastically. He seemed to avoid eye contact. Dylan raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. Kawari held his skewer weakly, the fish's fin inches from the floor. This one's a talkative and curious one, Kawari told himself. He sighed deeply to brush away the pain slowly that seared through his head like an intense migraine. I'll have to keep away from him, Kawari warned. I don't see why I just don't – nah… Kawari had a change of thoughts. That's not part of the deal. I have to remember that, he reminded himself. "Just thinking," Kawari cleared Dylan's thoughts. The Botany Minor nodded in acceptance and gullibility.

PoVS

The crashing. The horrid ear splitting crashing. It rang against the scene like a piercing scream. It curdled the heads of trees in a deep, bass echo. The shifting dirt and mud seemed to claw desperately forward to Eric's feet. It was like the hope that he couldn't reach. He wanted to breathe heavily, but he knew he could put himself in danger like that. Oh, how Eric wanted to jump out of that stupid blanket of heat and come out and search for Walter. Walter, who was beneath the heavy layers of mud. Walter, who was trapped underneath it all, with no air to breathe. Yes, Eric just wanted to rip that hotness apart from him and just dive into the dirt, desperate to save him. But he couldn't do anything. He had no power at this point. He couldn't even move a finger. How?! Eric asked himself. How do I do this!?

Mark and Eric continued to stare in disbelief as the rushing dirt calmed. Nothing was left now but a whole entire field of darkish brown. Satisfied grins grew on Gaia and Sanshouuo. "… My purpose!" Eric remembered Walter's voice say. An angry, life threatening frown grew on Eric as anger took over him. But the anger was of no use. It was soon wiped away.

The ground shook again eerily. Its quakes banged against everyone's feet, begging them downward. "What? What's going on?!" Sanshouuo demanded as he almost fell on his back, stammering. Eric and Mark were asking themselves the very same question.

Then, from the middle of the settled dirt and mud came a huge eruption. It was an eruption that blasted through the air and went a million feet high up into the air. Water poured out from the opening, its tremendous pressure blistering upward into the sky, a long, thick hand reaching for its dreams; the clouds. The huge erupting geyser revealed Walter in the middle of it, who clapped his hands together as the intense waves of water continued to pour out. His eyes were glowing with that bluish glow from the Half Spirit inside him. His clapped hands gave him a disciplined look as water rushed at his feet, blowing heavy breezes into his clothes with no sense of privacy, his hair fluttering wildly like long, thick fingers playing the keys on the piano.

Walter! Eric thought to himself as he watched the water form false rain drops to the muddy ground. More water blasted out from the opening and weathered rocks were spread out all over. "How did he…?!" Sanshouuo cried out in surprise as he stared in awe, his mouth hung open like laundry held by the ropey string on a hot summer day.

Slowly, the Walter everyone saw at that moment faded away. He became discolored, the brownness of his hair and eyes beginning to fade into lighter colors. The peach tan that covered his skin turning into a dreadful blue. The blue of his clothes slowly faded into a more gelatin like blue. More shocked cries emitted from different directions as the Walter they saw before him dispersed into nothing more than water, spilling back into the main pillar of water, an optical illusion that left people confused.

I see, Eric thought. So he molded the water into a form that looked like him so people would think that was him, but all the while the real one was right… Eric didn't need to finish the sentence. On cue to his thought, a tiny figure from far away sprung from the main geyser, bursting out with a trail of blue leaving behind it. That tiny dot high in the sky and soaring downward towards Gaia and Sanshouuo was none other than Gaia. Walter soared downward, the intense rising wind filtering through the three "strands' of his hair. His teeth were tightly grit and locked in an angry confidence.

As he soared downward, he turned discolored, too, giving more shocked expressions. But this one was definitely the real one. He turned into water again, his feet fading away into nothing but a trail of water from his waist down. He snaked downward and crashed into the ground before the two enemies sharing the same body. Dust flew everywhere as they were forced to shield their eyes with their discolored arms. The real Walter snaked around them in an aquatic dance, spiraling above them as he crashed himself into the ground, Gaia and Sanshouuo barely dodging the attack. Walter unharmed, he arose from the ground as the dust cleared away and headed for the two again. His swift movements were barely caught from the corner of your eye. His snake like body assisted him as he made various puzzling movements around the two enemies, confusing them in every way possible.

Having decided that he beat them up enough, he returned to a more human form, and four separate geysers sprang from around them, like caging them in an aquatic prison. I can't use too much water, Walter told himself as Sanshouuo and Gaia watched the crazed, wild geysers rush upward in the air, about to fall on them like the hugest wave you've ever seen. There's only fifty-six percent of my body's water left. My Half Spirit must increase the limits of dehydration to some scale for me. It's better to not push it right now. Also, I can create more water than my regular body has because of my Half Spirit as well, so there's no need to overuse it, unless it's completely necessary.

The geysers fell down and Walter controlled the four waves of water, blasting each one of them again and again at the enemy. They soon found themselves trapped in a cornering wheel of water, unable to move or do anything, just like they trapped Eric and Mark.

"Damn it!" Gaia cried out as he shielded his eyes from the stormy waves of liquid. "This much power… how did he get it!? I can't even…"

"Just as I thought," Walter explained as the water wheel continued circling them. "You use your skin to turn it into the dirt and mud you use for attacking, right? But, that only works if it's your skin and nothing else. But now you can't use your abilities because of the additional water I put into it, right?"

"Damn you!" Gaia shot at Walter.

"He's figured it out," Sanshouuo muttered in a rasp. No one's ever figured it out! Gaia thought angrily. His fun was now taken away from him. No enjoyment remained. Nothing he thought remained except confusion and seconds' worth of confusing attacks that he couldn't even tell were coming. Just how did he do it?! What is this kid!? A monster!?

With a rush of more energy, Walter took back in the water from the churning wheel and brought it back into his body. Bursting with power, he launched more kicks and punches to them. Trying to land a kick to their arm, Walter's attack was blocked by an arm of Sanshouuo. The red-eyed opponent showed great strength as he tightened his grip around the Water Minor's leg. His long nails dug into his skin and leaked out blood as pain seared through it. It seemed like he was going to cut his foot off.

Walter squinted and restrained a hurtful cry. He held back the pain. Using the other available side, Walter tried to land a punch. It was blocked by Gaia's open hand. "Face it," Gaia said, irritated and impatient on his own now. "You may be smart enough to figure out our abilities, but just because your intense rushing of multiple attacks doesn't mean you can beat us. You're still weak!"

Walter scoffed. "I'll kill you!" he threatened. Gaia narrowed his eyes into hateful slits. Taking back his punch by a centimeter, Walter turned his punching arm into an aquatic one, and let it snake around Gaia's arm in a tight grip. Using the other arm, he did the same and wrapped it around Gaia's arm again.

"What're you trying to pull? You freakin' brat!" Gaia mocked angrily as he found the unavailability of using his arm.

"If you break his arm, I'll slice off your foot," Sanshouuo threatened.

"Yeah, right," Walter said through gritted teeth. "Die!" Walter cried out.

"What?!" Gaia cried his own cry out as surprise and shock overtook him. He's not going to…! With a loud gasp, Gaia felt the pain sear all over him as he closed his eyes, feeling the pain in his arm take over him.

"First I'll break your arm," Walter explained, struggling the least amount possible in the position he was locked in, feeling no pain from the five fingernails dug deep into his ankle. "Then I'll cut it off!" Walter cried out.

"No!" Gaia begged. It was too late. The sound of slicing energy filled the dreadful air as blood found its way to Gaia's cheek. With the huge amount of pain and blood spreading all over, it forced Gaia to close his eyes, trying hard not to throw up. Walter got some blood on his face, too, and Sanshouuo was too shocked and petrified as he stared that he didn't even care for cutting of Walter's leg anymore. Soon, it was all over. And soon, chunks of meat and bone were all over the floor, again with that silver, brainwashing energy thick in the air.


	75. Chapter 75

Time seemed to slow dreadfully. The clouds became slumped to a half motion, the sun's face a pale shock, color drained from its features. The blueness above churned to deathly black; the winds became demonic. Leaves of trees discontinued their rustled dance, wooden limbs hung in suspense. The air became heavy with a mysterious cold that tempted beaded perspiration from Eric's body. Not even the hissing of the friction sensitive heat that constricted him in a tight hold could catch his attention. He was out of it. Walter…. Eric thought as he stared, eyes blank with unperceivable thoughts, his mouth hung open like a mindless hunger.

Walter's ankle was released from Sanshouuo's hold. The pain it owed him suddenly came to him in a bundle at once – doubling the weight of his foot. He could feel the cold blood flow from the wounds chillingly. Dots of red splattered on his face as he himself had to be surprised. He, who had done the deed, found it hard to breathe. His brown eyes were petrified as it stared dully. Sanshouuo looked to his brother's arm – or, to be more accurate, where it should be. His eyes were frozen in an invisible ice. Gaia was speechless. He couldn't even think.

Walter waited, snapping himself out of the dazzle he had been caught up in. He put his hands forward, ready to continue fighting. Silver energy traced the exterior side of his arms, like sharp blades ready to cut. He couldn't help but find his eyes unsteady in their sockets. He was forced to take a large gulp of nervousness.

"What… what did you do?!" Sanshouuo spoke for Gaia, who was still speechless. "Gaia's arm…!" He couldn't take his eyes off of it. It lay on the floor helplessly, all cut up into tiny pieces from the sharp silver energy. Red puddles burst out of them and Gaia couldn't keep his eyes away from the empty socket of where his arm would have been. Suddenly, his cheeks expanded, and he made a sickening sound as he retched, leaning downward. The sounds of his appalling gags seemed to tempt Walter's stomach. It was definite. Gaia's arm was gone. Nothing remained but remains of it and a vacant position on Gaia's side of the body. "Gaia!" Sanshouuo found no other words fit for the situation. He quickly turned his eyes to Walter. He gave him a shocked, feared look as he watched Walter's heavy panting face. He breathed unsteadily, nervousness not leaving him at all.

"What's the matter?" he said unstably, hiding his panic. "I'll break your arm, too," he threatened weakly as he tried hard to keep his eyes narrow and mean.

Sanshouuo took a sharp gasp and narrowed his eyes, the fear inside him mending into a hardcore anger. His blood red eyes showed demonic disgust. "Why you – I'll kill you!" he threatened as he took Walter by the throat. Walter cried out, unable to move due to the heaviness that was put on his foot from the wound. The Water Minor winced as he put his arms around Sanshouuo's arm, finding it hard to use his powers. I'm at my limit, Walter told himself. I can't use anymore water… "With this hand, I'll burn off your neck and melt it into nothing until nothing remains but a body and a decapitated head!" Sanshouuo declared in a shaky voice, his anger hiding most of his fear. The Minor and Sanshouuo grinded their teeth together, giving each other hateful looks, wanting to rip the other one apart, yet both scared of the other of what they might do.

Gaia, still adjusting himself brought his head weakly up. The feeling of his arm was missing, and his envy green eyes became sickly ones. He gagged again, trying to help himself from throwing up. His stomach churned as he wished he had the arm to wipe his mouth. "This kid…" he muttered weakly as ever, finding it hard to use his voice.

No! Eric reacted as he watched Sanshouuo's grayed fingers tighten around Walter's neck, watching their shuddering eyes trade confused looks to each other. I have to… he told himself. He added extreme effort, trying to move his arms, his legs – anything that would get him out of that hellish heat wrap. His arms rattled upward difficultly like he was a piece of rusty, obsolete machinery. His teeth tightly ground, his eyes narrowed into confident brown eyes full of purpose. I can't…! "Agh!" Eric cried out his anger and blistering confidence as his limbs broke themselves free from the bubbling heat. The armor became wisps that dispersed in the air, a good riddance goodbye.

The Fire Minor took a second to adjust himself, knowing there was no time to waste. The heat left him and gave a good sense of coolness to his skin, but there was no time to enjoy it. "Eric!" Mark called out to him. Eric gave him a brave nod as he took off. "Wait!" Mark tried to stop him. Oh, hell… Mark thought as he gritted his teeth. What's he going to do?!

Stumbling on his feet as he ran, Eric paced through the field without a sense of good direction, and picked up a sharpened shaft of clay that was used earlier in his non wasteful fingers. That second when that clay left the ground, Eric became a red blur. He reappeared behind Sanshouuo's side of the body, and then –

_Crack. _Sanshouuo took a sharp gasp. Walter's eyes didn't change. He waited. Sanshouuo's red eyes looked up and dozed off into space as a streak of red came from the corners of his lip. It fell to the ground, meeting a supporting grass blade, reddening it with an unwanted paint job. Walter felt the fingers loosen around his neck, air coming back to his lungs and the heat cooling to a normal temperature. "N-No way…" Sanshouuo muttered just as weakly as his brother with a broad gaze.

There was a heavy breathing that grew on the back of Sanshouuo's neck. It was hot against his skin, a dreadful heat rubbing against him. "You took your eyes off of me for only a second," Eric's voice suddenly sounded from behind Sanshouuo. The red-eyed enemy's eyes expanded to a larger extent as he realized what happened. "That's the biggest mistake of your life," Eric's voice spoke again.

Sanshouuo grunted feebly as he looked down to his chest. Walter's eyes followed the direction of his gaze. At the same time, without surprised gasps, they both found the jagged piece of clay struck through the left side of the opponent's body. Blood smeared the tip of it as the red-eyed one seemed to have an empty reaction. No, way… did he really…? Mark thought as he remained in the armor of heat, unable to pull himself out of it. He didn't have the stamina.

"You two combine bodies don't you?" Eric asked a stupid question as he kept a tight grip on the clay. Sanshouuo's eyes didn't leave it. "That way, you gain more power and more abilities. However, by doing so, you share the same body. Meaning you share the same organs, and, most importantly, the same heart." Walter's eyes widened in shock and realization. His mouth kept closed and secretive. He peered to Gaia. His face was hidden; his head pulled downward as the silver mop of his hair acted like a mask. He didn't seem to be conscious. He looked dead. "Because of this, it is your drawback," Eric explained the last piece of information needed.

Shit…! Sanshouuo muttered. Eric… Walter thought as he stared at the Fire Minor's face. Don't make bonds with him, his inner voice sounded. What? What are you saying? The outer Walter asked.

_Don't make bonds with him, _the voice explained once more._ Your goal is not something stupid like friendship. Do not lose sight of your goal. You're destined a loner. Why do you think the ones you love were taken away from you so many times? You can't change destiny. _The outer Walter swallowed nervously. _Let the hate take over. Let the darkness erupt from within you. Only then will you become strong enough to attain what you want. Do not become sidetracked. Understand?!_

Walter seemed to hesitate. Yes, he replied after a moment's worth of thoughts. Yes, I understand. It is right, Walter realized. I am destined to be a loner. But, however true that may be, that won't stop me from my purpose. A loner shall remain a loner. That's what a loner is. Bonds don't have anything to do with my purpose. Because of that, there is no use in having a tight one.

_Good,_ the voice answered back. Then, as if on cue, its presence faded from Walter, and returned him to the scene where they awaited the final act. "I told you, didn't I?" Eric asked Sanshouuo. The Fire Minor's voice brought Walter back to reality. "If I didn't, let me make it clearer. If you hurt my friends, I'll kill you! Got it?!" Eric threatened, moving the sharp clay as it remained inside Sanshouuo. The red-eyed one cried out in pain as he did. He coughed out a splotch of blood to the ground below as he bowed his head uneasily.

"Gaia, we need to get away!" Sanshouuo cried out to the green-eyed one. "We wasted enough time," he grumbled, still showing his arrogant intolerance for time. His brother didn't seem to reply. Sanshouuo scoffed uneasily, finding no way out but one. Gaia seemed to stir weakly, alerting Sanshouuo he was still there, somewhat. Together, their discolored selves began to melt and churn and their flesh became mud together, dropping into a pile of sediments on the floor along with the clay dagger. Together, they escaped and awaited their death.

Eric was left unstable on his feet, bringing his hands to his knees for support. His breath became two tons as he desperately tried to regain the energy he had lost. He wiped away blood from the wounds on his forehead, squinting his eyes for protection, and then bringing his hands to his knees again. With a stammer, Walter fell to the floor flat on his back; the only thing that had been holding him up was Sanshouuo's arm. Now, he lay tiresome on the ground, breathing slightly and silently so Eric wouldn't notice.

With a great effort, Eric brought himself straight on his feet and walked to Walter. His steps were weak and dragged across the dirt ground as the tension and sense of danger left them. Far away, the heated armor that locked Mark began to slowly slide off like slime against a wall. It gave him an icky, nauseating feeling as it took its time disbanding. Eric held out a hand as Walter's body lay at Eric's feet. His hand was caked with dirt and tired marks.

Reluctantly, Walter let himself be helped up until he was just about on his feet. Then, he brushed away Eric's hand and walked away, only able to take a few steps away from him. The Water Minor turned his back on Eric, his eyes shaded over in a solemn darkness. His feet stumbled as they took the few steps. The angry energy he used to brush away Eric's helping hand definitely gave a clear message, yet Eric found it confounding.

Eric's brown eyes set a hard gaze on Walter's back. The Water minor could feel it. He could feel the puzzled stare sticking to the backside of him like a leech. He wanted to pry it off so badly, but he was too tired. Walter found his breath heavy as well, just like Eric. His chest slowly rose and fell tiredly, his arms limp at his side, the three thick strands of hair flustered. "Why?" Walter asked in a calm yet angry voice. "Why did you kill them?!" the Water Minor asked irritably, now showing the full extent of his anger. His voice croaked like a set of angry leaves, and angry shaking like a demon's sinful breath. His voice seemed too heavy to a higher extent as Eric quietly listened, still caught up in confusion. "I was supposed to do that, not you!" Walter declared angrily, still having his back turned on Eric.

"Walter!" Eric scolded, shifting his feet as he made a small attempt to near the Water Minor. The Fire Minor's brown eyes narrowed into an angry, parenting lock. His teeth lightly ground themselves. "What are you saying?!" Eric scowled.

"Damn it!" Walter screeched mindlessly out of anger and dispute. He took a few more steps away from Eric. This time, his feet were more stable, and more energetic. "I have to find them!" he declared, taking a few more uneasy steps forward. "They couldn't have gotten too far!"

"Walter, listen to yourself!" Eric scowled once more. Walter froze. "We shouldn't' be looking for enemies! What are you thinking?"

His head bowed, Walter bit his lip. His teeth was about to dig deep into his bottom limp until he released himself, and then sighed a long, tiresome sigh. "Listen," Walter began, calming himself. Eric seemed shocked to hear a light tone. "I'll acknowledge you for saving me. If I had been the one that had to finish them off, I could be in big trouble," Walter explained.

Eric gave a confused look. His brown picked itself up towards his forehead as his lip crumbled into a crooked, confused frown. His eyes became sympathetic, even though in reality, it was just confoundedness. "For now, we should find a place to rest – away from here," Mark interrupted. He caught the two Minors' attention as he strapped on the sack full of food and medicine. "The noise we made during fighting could've attracted enemies."

Walter turned to Eric. The Fire Minor's attention was immediately caught. The Water Minor's eyes showed no emotion as his arms crossed in front of him, his brown eyes dark with a secretive malevolence. That kind of look gave Eric a tensed body. "Fine," Walter said dully and unenthusiastically. "Let's go," he declared, and rushed off into a blur. Mark looked to Eric, and Eric looked back. They both nodded at each other, and with a flash, Mark faded. The Fire Minor took a deep sigh and followed suit.

Soon, the three Minors found themselves rushing through the trees, no matter how tired their feet were. If they didn't move, they could put themselves in even more danger. Their tiresome feet went on, jumping the best they could from branch to branch, Mark in the lead, being the one Minor that had fought the least. Walter looked to his hands as he jumped. The silver glow on them slowly faded away into invisible wisps to the sky. He sighed. Eric was right, he thought. But… I must acknowledge him for his purpose as well. Maybe he'll do the same, Walter thought. And maybe, he'll be the first to understand. But, even if he should, our bond will remain nothing but an invisible one, one that is bound together by a very, very rusty lock and a very thin string.

PoVS

Sanshouuo and Gaia rose from the ground slowly, molding themselves into their former beings from the mud. When they finally reached succession, they walked weakly towards the trunk of a tree. Their feet were like a hundred boulders and refused to move. Taking heavy breaths before dying, Sanshouuo and Gaia turned their backs against the bark of the tree. The piney feeling of the tree's proud body poked annoyingly at them. Sanshouuo and Gaia slid downward, unable to keep themselves standing in their current condition. "Damn it…" Sanshouuo said breathlessly. "I knew one way or another we'd die," Sanshouuo muttered. "Brother, you were much too hasty," he scolded as he looked to the green-eyed partner. His head was still bowed and eyes were still closed. Sanshouuo scoffed. "Idiot." Sanshouuo waited, and closed his eyes, just staying their and letting the eternal rest take over him. There was nothing we could do… he thought. Slowly, the bones at their backs began to sink back into them, and the redness of Sanshouuo's eyes began to fade into the ebony blackness again. The bones rattled and cracked as they sunk back in. The power inside him faded away.

"What took you so long?" a voice came from the trees. Sanshouuo was taken by surprise. His pure black eyes gasped themselves open as he tried hard to look around the area. Nothing showed signs of abnormality. Where was that voice coming from? No… not here, not now! Sanshouuo thought as panic began to rise in him again. "You know how I don't like to be kept waiting," the voice sounded again, seeming to come from every direction.

Sanshouuo looked around again. Nothing. "Show yourself!" he demanded in a raspy voice. It was hard to speak.

"Have you become blind as well? I'm right here," the demonic, monotonous voice echoed through the trees. Sanshouuo took another shocked, fearful gasp as he turned his head forward, finding a figure with a slouched back hiding in the shadows. Only his discolored forelegs and feet were shown in the sunlight. The rest of him was covered by the trees hazy shadow, his piercing, evil eyes giving an intense chill down the back of Sanshouuo's spine. The narrow eyes were full of deviance and malevolence. Even Sanshouuo was scared. "Well, it doesn't matter," the croaky voice sounded. "You'll be rescued anyway."

Sanshouuo scoffed. "Rescued?" he asked as he closed hi eyes. The scythe-like bone returned and began to protrude out of his shoulder blade once again. With a burst of energy, Sanshouuo opened his eyes and revealed the bloody redness of them once more. Birds twittered in the trees above as they became full of fear. Their wings fluttered frantically as they searched for higher ground. A light breeze brushed past as Sanshouuo made an effort to stand back up. He stumbled on his feet, preparing himself to the slightest extent to take this guy out.

"Oh?" the raspy, demonic voice said, interest piqued. He remained stationary, finding no need to move as his belittling eyes continued to stare on.

"I don't need you to rescue me!" Sanshouuo said declaratively, finding the confidence in him again. With a burst of energy, the red-eyed being ran with heavy feet towards the shadowy figure, reeling in a punch of heat as he approached him. The scythed bone behind him seemed to drag with the dirt.

Seconds told the time left before impact as the shadowy silhouette continued to show no signs of emotion or reaction. Then, a sickening crack was sent through the air. Hissing heat died out, and the birds fluttered their wings away, the scene to nauseating for them and their newborns to see. "What do you think you're trying to do with that, play around?" the raspy, stronger voice demanded in a monotone voice.

Sanshouuo took a sharp gasp as he felt the pain surge through his wrist and into his body. A discolored hand reached out from the shadow and took Sanshouuo's hand, bending it in the most unnatural way ever. He…he broke it! Sanshouuo thought as he wince one eye, finding it hard to move now. Fear filled his insides once again. "Of course, when I said rescue, I did mean to leave you hear and die," the croaky voice explained. "However, it seems that you don't want it that way."

Tension filled Sanshouuo. "Now, feel yourself lose your sense of judgment and allow your mind to become clouded. Begin to feel the pain that I felt years ago, so that you can understand what pain really is, and allow me to pay those who hurt me the debt I owe them for so long," the voice said calmly as it narrowed its eyes into evil, deviant slits. Sanshouuo took a big gulp, but it was too late for him. From the shadows of the trees behind him, two swinging axes whizzed through the air, rotating like a deadly disk. One of the axes had the kanji letter for "hate" on its silver, glimmering blade as it spun through the air rapidly. The other axe was completely covered in blood, and they rushed expertly, slicing the air as they neared Sanshouuo as he tried to look back – but then…

A loud cry echoed through the forest, and the birds who had stayed brave now found themselves panicky with fear, leaving behind horrified, innocent feathers and scarred minds as they soared to the sky in order to get as far away as possible. The forest soon became silenced, and nothing was there but one presence. The shadowy figure in the darkness of the trees picked up the two axes in his two hands, feeling their heavy metal heads weigh him down. "No…" he said. He wiped his hands on the second axe that had been caked with dried blood. It slowly came off, and he held it to his face, examining it, polishing it as if to take care of it like a treasure. "No…" he continued to groan. "Not enough pain has been dealt to pay back the debt. No, not enough, not enough," he repeated over and over in a sort of demonic chant. As the blade was somewhat held up to the bright, afternoon sun, you could see leftover smears of blood remaining, and the second axe's kanji character on its blade, "love" that reflected the sunlight with its silvery, smooth metal.


	76. Chapter 76

Sunlight filtered through the rusty, metallic iron bars of the high and proud gate. A black iron serpent snaked around the lock of the rusted barrier, its mouth wide open with its fiery tongue protruding like a curved horn. Its beady black eyes hid themselves from the intervention of light known as the sun. Its scaled body wrapped around a kanji character for north, the old blackish word's legs long withered past. The dark letters were barely visible against the gate of pointed heads, a million arrows as a lookout.

Zack sighed tiredly, despite the fact he had not done anything at all. He rocked himself playfully against the North Serpent's gate, the ancient metal rattling and clanging in protest. He sat idly against the metal bars digging into his back, its lustrous coldness of the gate's ribs cooling him to a somewhat inactive laziness. Trees of crooked pride posed seductively, hoping to catch the nonexistent breezes with their pleading, jagged hands. Their thick limbs remained stationary; their thin, smaller branches like streak after streak of wooden lightning that remained silent during a storm, if such a thing were to ever exist. It was funny, really. How could that one thick body of wood become a million; if ever so needed, bodies? It seemed surreal that such a thing could exist.

The hot, comforting yet sloth bringing sun breathed warmly against Zack's skin, as if to approach him and him only, loving him just a tad too much. It was a day of excitement. A day of looking forward to the future that was only a step away, not a day of slothful leisure. Nonetheless, it was hot. The sky was cloudless, and the sun had all the space it needed to smile, from ear to ear. No angels sailed the sapphire ozone today; no, for today, everyone wished their goodbyes and kept their waving hands at their sides.

"It's been five days since that glass girl showed up," Zack muttered in his mustered laziness, the hissing hot sun giving him the least excitement. Perspiration acted a paste for him and his clothes. His body was so hot – so, so hot. It was burning, actually, burning under that _white_ shirt. That white shirt that had nothing else underneath, and those long shorts, those long shorts that let his legs breathe. So, so hot. And whoever thought white warded away heat.

It remained a fair afternoon, the sun high in the sky, its decision of a hot day taken to a much too far extent. Birds twittered happily as they nestled onto limb after limb, playing an innocent game of hide and seek with their young. The arid day seemed to come pass with the lowest definition of slow possible. Birds twittered anyway, ignoring the hot spherical god, having the time of their lives; playing their day off, if you will. "I need a rest," Zack said, his breath hot and dry. He brought a hot hand with baked fingers to his forehead to wipe beads of sweat, of hot blistering sweat. "Not a rest from fighting, just, a rest," he continued, wondering if Derek was really listening to him. "I miss that comfy bed with cool pillows. I miss the Inner World. I don't want to be here, I really don't. It's too much work."

Derek sculpted a tightened face, hiding the disapproval behind his handsome, dark eyes. He stood coolly against the soft bark of a tree, its prickly body stabbing him ever so lightly with an invisible coolness. The shade of a nearby tree provided him with a body without sweat. In fact, for him, it was a pretty brisk day as he stood there, arms crossed meanly as he watched his teammate in the lazy, unwanted leisure. "A life of a Minor isn't a life of rest and royalty," Derek explained. Zack just knew that a lecture had to be in the way. "We put our lives on the line for the better good. Furthermore, as minor beings, we are treated as trash. It's a life of hard work. It's not too different than human society," Derek lectured.

The brown haired seventeen year old yawned. His exasperated, tiresome yawn made Derek somewhat drowsy as well. This was easily hidden behind his secretive features. "Whatever," Zack muttered without interest, his mind completely blank, his brain cooked behind his forehead. "When's Kawari and Dylan coming back from scouting?" he asked in a desperate need of a change in subject. The invisible stench of metallic rust lingered in the air as he rocked himself once more, the gate fingers now as hot as Zack's body. Their coldness had been drained away; the young teenager finding no need for them anymore. Yet, he was too lazy too move. Too heated to lift a finger.

"When they do," Derek answered scornfully. A breeze full of hope for the trees and the two waiting Minors bristled by, but all hope was lost as it left them to be, giving them only a second – no, not even a second's worth of enjoyment. Yes, the trees had begun to sway happily, their green heads of patience cheering for more of the cool, enlightening refreshment. However, the more they wished, the more real not having it would become. Kawari's been with us for a while, Derek thought suspiciously. His eyes locked hard on the grassy floor. The shady blades of green picked up no signs of wind either, splotches of dirt showing from the underside of the layer of grass. Birds whispered a gossiping secret to one another as they watched Derek from their wooden peaks, watching the seventeen year-old boy cross his arms meanly and think heavily, his black, straight hair like a perfect forest of its own, like mad thorns of a rose that tapped into his anger. If just a tap gave them such a perfect, black color like that, the birds thought of the wonders it could do if it took all of it in. Why does he keep following us around? Doesn't he have somewhere to go? Derek asked himself, troubling his own good health with someone else's. The black haired boy sighed tiredly, loosening his grip on his crossed forearms as he got more and more used to the coolness of the shade, the comfort slowly leaving him in seeps of a second.

Zack stirred uneasily. The gate rattled threateningly. "I need to –"

"If you're going to tell me what I think you are, then stop right there," Derek interrupted the white clothed Minor, who flashed an uneven stare of puzzlement and daze. "Idiot. Don't tell me something like that," Derek changed his tone, belittling the brown haired boy with his insults of no meaning. "Go behind the bushes." Birds twittered gleefully as they laughed at the humans, thinking over and over again of what idiots humans were, reminding themselves time after time of their stupidity, causing them to fall on their backs and burst out laughing until their stomachs popped and their eyes refused to open.

Zack's stare lowered. "I can't…." he answered weakly and dully. The tone of his voice was completely drained, if you could call it a tone. Now, you could sense that even the trees began to snicker uncontrollably, just barely holding it in like a six year old boy at the mall with his mother, frantically playing with his feet up and down, up and down like a see-saw as he tightly wrapped his tiny, indecent fingers around the woman's impatient, pleading hand. "I'm too tired to move," Zack explained with a soft, sloth voice. He lay on his back against the gate in a slump now, his eyes looking like they were about to doze off into a summer weather's hibernation. The thirst of clouds, or anything of interest for that matter, soon became a need.

Derek sighed from bother again. His crossing of arms released themselves from the lock they put themselves in. His back slouched and his somewhat narrowed eyes closed themselves, tired of hearing – or more like watching Zack speak his lame, selfish excuses. "Fine," Derek muttered lowly, deciding that he had enough. The black dressed Minor walked in a reluctant motion to the backside of another tree. There, he felt the minimized rays of sunlight caress the side of his face with warmth, warmth that he didn't need, neither did he want. As he closed his eyes, hiding his intolerance for his teammate, he wished the idiot to finish, and also, wishing he wouldn't hear the sounds of a soft watering against grass. He strained at his forehead, grinding his teeth together as he found the power of ignorance for his fellow Minor. He kept himself busy. That's what he wanted to do.

PoVS

Three blurs brushed through the forest, knocking over its features of withering grass blades and dead bulbs of flowers as three pairs of feet stomped past. They neared their destination, feeling the hot sun against their faces, forcing their thin arms to their forehead to cap themselves. Birds playing a round of tag fluttered their wings against a bright, patent sky. Their silent wings were blazing, every tiny organism that lived in the forest was sure of it. Hot faces panted as heavy steps crumbled orange, brown, and red leaves into unacknowledged crannies. Not a nook of cloud placed itself in the sky. Nope, not even a tiny puff to show today.

With a halt, one of the trio blurs stopped in his tracks, showing himself to the eyes of blind trees, the closed eyes of the grass, and the turned heads of the birds. Noticing his action, the two blurs stopped as well, the only two pair of eyes skilled enough to watch him. "I think it's about time I can take these off," a blonde haired, eyes like golden, jeweled candies named Rick told his teammates. He brought a hot, scorching hand to his mouth and bit the mummifying bandages off it, his two teammates watching him as the strips of white fell to the floor like party streamers ripped in half, a delicate slow snowfall to the ground.

When he was done, the blonde examined his hand, feeling the slight coolness of the outside change the feeling of his hand. The blistered palm and fingers showed red scratches all over, like tiny embellishments caused by something completely unknown to the human world and its intelligent, arrogant society. Pleased to have the freedom of outside yet pain still beating like a heart, the hand seemed to cry out to Rick, wishing him to make the pain go away, as if he knew how.

Rick sighed at the sight, deciding that there was nothing he could do about it as the hand was slowly brought back down to his side. He watched the two teammates and searched the approval in their eyes. Not only did he search for it, but he found it – grasped it, and handled it to make it his own.

"Perfect timing," the silver haired Lance said softly in his always friendly tone. "We're finally here," he told his two teammates. He turned, feeling the bright sun hot against their backs, baking up another batch of perspired paste of annoyance. The three teenagers found their gaze upon the eastern gate and the sun's origin, its rusty, thorny pikes at the top a symbol of no escape. A symbol of forever. A forever that would never last, or so the Minors hoped. The kanji symbol of east was in the beady, pearly eye of a black dragon, its fangs showing themselves as the enlarged statue's body whorled around the gate's center. Its tongue seemed to lick the underside of its head, a black, rounded, perfect black pearl embedded into it, a daredevil dragon it was. "That technique is too dangerous," Lance warned Rick, his eyes turned away from him, somewhat avoiding contact.

Rick found his gaze fall upon Lance's clothed back; and he knew that Lance knew his stare was hard on it, a parasite that wouldn't let go. "You shouldn't use it too much," Lance informed in a calm, cool voice. Rick nodded, and he knew that Lance knew that he nodded, too. A mind reader was he, as well as a brilliant one. Lance suddenly began to stumble downward in pain, as if calling Rick to help him up. The blonde immediately went to his assistance, and carefully brought the silver eyed boy to his feet once again. "Sorry," Lance apologized quietly.

"Its fine," Rick answered. "Are you all right? Sorry if…" He trailed off.

"No, its fine," Lance repeated Rick's words. The two smiled.

Moments later, the three found themselves getting themselves comfortable around the gate, waiting for the next and final day for the Council to pick them up and rescue them from this miserable place. The blackish metal gate was built from a lake. The murky water spread towards outside and parts of the inside as well. Marissa found herself sitting on a jagged rock, feeling the uncomfortable stabbing of the cragged rock against her skin. She ignored it just as fair, just as she was ignored for most of the week. But she didn't blame them. Throughout those last five days, she did nothing, watching their backs as they did all the work. When they set up camp, she was the one to watch electric sparks fly high into the sky as the fire became alive. When they went to sleep, she was the one that went to sleep against the tree's crooked body first. When they went scouting, she was the only one who remained, claiming that her legs were too tired from running as she sat on the dirt ground, wondering when they would come back, and stop wasting their time scouting. Wasting their time – that's what she had thought it was. Only that she knew little of the waste of time she was being to them.

She sighed in dread as she dipped her feet coolly into the brownish blue waters. The lake was clam, and the gate was only a fair amount of feet away, easily visible from where she sat. She did not care for the dirtiness that could dwell in the water; she just needed a calming feeling, no matter how dirty it was. This was a first sacrifice of many she would have to make. The hot sun baked the back of her neck, filtering through the silky wave of her blonde-brown hair. Her feet swayed in the water, her toes combing the dirty water as she felt a cool sensation enter her from the feet. It was calming, she had to admit. But it was a letdown that calming things did not solve your problems in this world. What use were they really? What use was she, really? As she continued to fluster herself with her uneven thoughts that just didn't match, the murky waters underneath swayed along with her, and a dark, slender body zoomed past, a trail of bubbles to leave behind.

PoVS

Teresa sat in the tall grass against the gate. The long and thin grassy blades were almost as tall as her as she sat, folding her legs in front of her as she wrapped her arms around her knees. Calm breezes played with her hair, a childhood toy worth remembering. Her violet streaks were left uncared for as she stared blankly into space, lost in her own thoughts, half her face masked in a protective seat she put herself in. Tall weeds of grass wanted to claw at the gate behind her, and she – being the more paranoid one of the group would always, always stay by the gate. Always? No, maybe not always. But many times out of many more. A vermillion bird was topped at the center middle of the ebony gate. Its wings spread out wide and proud, its head cocked up not only its chest but jealousy of other observers; the kanji symbol of south was portrayed on its broad chest. Its tiny beak showed little threat, but its hurtful glare was as demonic as a dragon's hungry teeth, or a snake's venomous tongue slithering in and out of its lips almost half transparently, a wave of red barely ever seen. Its crooked hands took its place on the gate, and made itself noticed to the world. An important feat indeed.

Five days of thinking, Teresa thought, crammed into her own solitary ball of thoughts. Five days of thinking, and nothing to show for it. Teresa took a big whiff of the air to check, to make sure. She was not pleased. Nor was she scared. That smell of blood and that eerie presence is bothering me, she told herself. What does it mean? Suddenly, images of the past replayed in her mind. Images of growling, demonic teeth showing their deviance of hunger behind a crooked, disgraced mask. Images of a bloodied blade, or was it axe? A bloodied weapon with a blade, to say the least. Images of death everywhere, and a full, or was it crescent, moon of night. A settling mist that thickened in the air with suspense, chilling your beads of sweat into frozen anxiety. And most importantly, the bodies. The hundreds of dead bodies. That was something she could never forget.

Teresa backed up against the gate, the metal ribs telling her that she could no longer escape and avoid her problems, her thoughts, her memories, and her past. The arms of weedy grass tried to comfort her and caress her lips, her face, her cheeks, maybe a nick to an ear. No success. No comfort. She curled up even more, if possible, to some extent, into a tiny, miniature ball, hoping that, unlike the bird proud on the gate's peak, she would remain a tiny, small dot in the face of society, a minimized sensation that would always remain at the bottom of the undergrowth, of the gate of destiny. She hoped that she became so small, not even fate itself could see, and find her.

PoVS

Daniel stood in the clearing of the large area of grass. He peered to the right, his emerald eyes moving slowly and meticulously, as if they were feet of themselves stepping through a million fragile cracks that were ready to fall and crumble to his doom. Then, even more carefully, they slid to the left, examining each and every detail as carefully as he could. His red hair somewhat got in the way, but as if he commanded it, the wind whisked it away for him. Only a second did the wind work for him, but only a second was needed. His glasses were low on his nose, ready to fall, but he, being the more focused one did not care like he usually did.

Movement? Daniel noticed as he quickly slid his emerald gaze to the right as fast as he could, blinking for just a fraction of a second. Panic gave him a sudden shock, only to sink away to the depths of his own emotion a half a second later. No, a squirrel. A squirrel seven meters north east, and a falling of an acorn and leaf ten meters south and fifteen meters southwest. He sighed; glad there was no presence of an enemy for a while. He took another calming breath, and went back to scouting.

PoVS

"Tomorrow, we finally get to leave," Mark said as he dropped to the ground, putting two leisurely hands behind his head. He closed his eyes, bringing himself out of reality as he sighed; a goodbye sigh for his metal presence would not be there for a while. The hot sun brightened against his face, as if smiling with him for his rest, rocking him motionlessly to sleep with invisible hands that didn't exist. The hands rocked the spirit, that's why, and not the physical body.

"Yeah," Walter commented, staring off into the forest. He didn't ever seem to make eye contact when he spoke. And whenever he did, whenever one of those rare occasions stopped by to wave hello, the eyes were always mean and narrow, as if he had high expectations of you, needs and wants of high levels that he wanted from you, that only you could give him. This was his pleading. This was a loner's pleading. Walter sat leisurely as well, his elbow supported by his protruding ankle as he sat on the ground, feeling a whisky, cool air finger through his three strands of hair, as well as the full head of it behind it. We've only fought two enemies so far, Walter thought, reminding himself. Will we be able to handle another?

Sounds of impact and punching against wood burst Walter out of his thoughts. Slowly and patiently, the brunette turned his head to find Eric fighting. However, an enemy fight this was not. This was a practice battle, a battle against the trunk of a stationary tree. Yes, this was training. Walter scoffed as he brought himself up to his feet.

I won't lose to this guy, he told himself as he walked towards a nearby tree as well, and beginning to work on his own style. Shadows of trees wavered by as the sun was hot, breathing against their faces, their necks. Eric acknowledged Walter with a second's glance. Walter smiled, but didn't look.

From the shadows far away in the trees, the trees that were the only ones that seemed to block away the sunlight, a pair of dark, pleading eyes watched the three. "Pain," a croaky voice spoke. "The debt of pain…" the voice rasped quietly, so quiet and low that the Minors could not hear. He made sure of it. "…has not been paid," the voice sounded demonically, its eyes narrowing to mean, grudged triangles, black, deviant eyes staring off to the clearing where the Minors paid no attention to their surroundings.


	77. Chapter 77

Minoa carefully exited the dark room of emptiness, closing the wooden door behind her with a slow, silent thud, now facing an even more wide darkness. The timber entrance clicked in enlightenment as the door shut, the golden doorknob's metal cooling to Minoa's worried, tense fingers. Her soft, rice paper hands no longer trembled; her bottom lip no longer bitten in anxiety. Her unease had faded, and now, nothing remained but a soft concern for the boy, a miniature worry of a tiny sensation – a tiny, microscopic sensation now barely felt with nonexistent strokes and absent fingers.

Candled families stood side by side, just inches apart from each other. Inches, yes, but wide inches, inches that made cockroaches atoms. Brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, uncles, aunts, and even grandparents stood in rows, their dwindling bodies softly lifted by the hands of a hallway. The elderly, more shrunk corpses of wax whispered their last words, bowing in return for the respect they had so long received but never seemed to give back. The children did the same, the taller, livelier bodies bowing their heads. However, they did not imitate for the same reason, no, for their reason was to look down from the height that they had been carried so high for, the height that allowed them to serve their one and only purpose for their whole life – their life of what? Minutes? A few hours, maybe? A day? Unanswered questions.

He's not doing too well, Minoa told herself, trying to decide on whether or not she should re-enter the room, just so she could feel that panic once more, just so she could reassure herself that this was indeed reality. It was not that she wanted it to be a true realness; it was solely for the fact that none of it seemed right. Things were out of place. Untouched silhouettes mysteriously gone, begged apples of trees misplaced, the missing feather of a fluttering bird. He's gotten worse and worse every day. How much longer can he hold back? It depends on his potential, Minoa thought. His stamina and his will make up the shield that block out what's really inside him. The pale haired council sighed deeply, a whistle of exhale full of a rising panic soon following.

Tired, dark brown bags of long wanted retirement hung from her white eyes. They were like window panes, clear, cut window panes that let everyone see through them, and yet, no one wanted to, a present sealed in transparent wrapping that no one desired. Solitary. Then, the shutters of these windows closed, tired of begging. Tired of pleading for just one glance, a second's worth of a peer inside. Tired of everything. Dreaded sigh came from her lips as the long, snowy shades treaded downward, slowly confining its unwanted contents to a long deserved rest.

"Minoa," a voice called. A strong voice.

As if thinking, finally, a person wanted to enter, finally someone wanted to look inside, take a long, pleasant glance into the glass, the shutters snapped open wildly, pushing out its contents a little too close, taking its chance to its highest advantage. Pale contents as pale as the lightless moon at night fell upon a recognized face, and the shudders closed again ever so slightly, readying themselves to snap shut once more.

"What's wrong?" Hanabikai asked. His brown, spiky hair was as perfect as ever, the unnoticed blueness of his eyes baked to a handsome, caring glaze. That one strand of hair fell over the side of his face, not too long and not too thin, the rest of his hair shaped like Derek's but much longer and straighter. Over 500 years old, yet both councils had the faces of twenty year olds.

"What do you mean?" Minoa asked, playing with the golden, cool doorknob behind her. She backed herself up against the door, as if sensing trouble. She didn't know why, though, Hanabikai was someone completely far away from a threat to a close one. Had she become paranoid?

"You've been in there for most of the week," Hanabikai said rather more scornfully than he intended. He gave a light scoff as he smirked, his cheeks lighting up, and the fair color of his skin accentuating attention received. Broad shoulders seemed to corner Minoa, however, they did not. "Are you resenting your duty as a council after so long?" Hanabikai asked, a fake question indeed taken seriously.

Minoa seemed to tense. Her shoulders became stiffer, her features more tightened, her glassy eyes more narrow. "Of course not!" she snapped meanly. "Stop asking so many questions!" she said, her voice now more full of tone and emotion. "We're not teenagers anymore, Hanabi," she nicknamed the council. "You don't have to be my dad!"

Hanabikai seemed amused. "The Minors are expecting us in half a day," he reminded Minoa in a more serious tone. His lips sealed themselves after every word, an impression of talking business. "It should take us that same amount of time to get there. We should get going."

Minoa nodded. "Yeah," she muttered unenthusiastically, avoiding eye contact with Hanabikai. Actually, no, it was more like she was unable to give eye contact. She was too jumbled in her own panicked thoughts, she completely disregarded anything her council mate said. "Let's go," Minoa decided a second after, pulling her back off of the timber entrance, physically yet not mentally letting go. Shoes clicked the floor as she started towards the end of the hallway, followed bye the brown haired, blue eyed man.

"It's annoying isn't it," Hanabikai began conversation, his voice trailing and echoing past Minoa, halting her speed. "That _they_ forbid us from our portals?" Minoa disregarded completely, and turned the corner as a blank, puzzled stare followed her back until it disappeared. Then, the gaze followed.

PoVS

A black, iron tiger wrapped its question mark tail around the center of the west gate, ironically enough, the kanji symbol of west lying between its elongated opening normally called its mouth. Its ivory of black stripes scarred its body, a grayed skin to match. Miniature yet muscular paws suctioned themselves onto the middle of the gate, as if it tried to tread carefully downward to the floor, looking up with its threatening, pearly glare. Its sharp fangs were full of undefined thoughts, some of murder, some of hunger, and some even of lust. Passionate pikes at the top of the metallic gate carefully sewed together an invisible arc over the grassless ground, its base chilling as ice as its top ablaze with heat. Strong light pressed against the tiger's lean, sculpted shoulders as a rusty fang was dusted by a light wind.

Walter sat against the tree running his fingers through his sweaty, hot hair, feeling the perspiration carried on his fingers, hitchhiking onto warm, crooked claws. He felt the medicine patch over his forehead wound. It felt unnatural, a surreal bump on the costume he called skin. He was in no way eager to get out. Whatever happened, happened. The only thing he was going to make sure that happened was one thing and one thing only. Everything else was off topic, unimportant and filled with irrelevance.

"A half a day left," Mark muttered, still locked in his leisure on the ground. The heavy weights strapped to his arms were long before gotten used to. The only bothersome thing now was thinking of moving. No replies were made to his notice; no replies were needed.

However, one presence was interested. One presence that was in no hurry, and one presence that was left completely unnoticed. "Half a day…" it muttered in a rasp to itself. Its low voice was unacknowledged, unheard. "Just about enough time for them, as well as me…" its croaky, groggy voice retched as an uttered low cry followed it. The dark triangles it called eyes pierced through the darkness, keeping their distance from the three teenage boys. "Perfect." Lifting the heavy axe in discolored hands that should and would be tanned, the metallic blade glowered in the bright sunlight, an elongated star of light shimmering off the pale part of its head. The luminous light gave off a thousand blades of light, trickling off into nothingness around it, a rainbow star barely noticed as a hot sun framed the kanji symbol of "love."

PoVS

Through another pair of eyes, these more feminine and compassionate yet not the least bit kind stared off from a certain distance and darkness as well. Eyes lazy and unsightly, a new discoloration to the halfhearted eyelids, the dull, oval-like gaze met no returns.

The eyes stared off into the distance of trees, foresting, corrupt bodies with jagged heads and slouched backs, falling upon three teenagers, and one that just didn't seem to belong. The unattractive trees modeled themselves, taking pride in the best ones the whole swamp-forest had. Blistered leaves rustled wildly, teeth chattering and ground, the few lucky ones having a luxurious fruit to look after. From the slanted eyes found four young boys, one with brown hair with the most idiotic, foolish face put on. One with black hair of handsome eyes and tanned skin, a serious, tight feature carefully locked onto it. One with blue hair, a wild color indeed, however the eyes showed no signals of punk or immaturity, or even unruliness for that matter. They showed nothing but a sort of secretive kindness. A kindness that was real, but didn't seem real. Wasn't it? Or, was it, in fact, the other way around? Lastly, they gazed upon a white haired boy, one of the youngest there for sure, innocent and apologetic eyes, somewhat shy and somewhat not, hiding the real personality beneath an emerald glaze.

Four children? I wonder… the saddened, saggy eyes asked themselves. Are they a challenge? Greenish hands with lines of yellow brought an identical colored instrument to an identical colored mouth. A challenge is what I hope to find, it wished lastly as it began to blow and whistle into the instrument, crooked fingers shifting in a dancing prayer.

From another pair of eyes came a different yet similar sight. The blurriness of its point of view was completely natural as it stared up to the ripples above, hearing the sound of nothing but rushing. Dreadful, yet ignored rushing played the beat of confidence for the event soon to come. The dark, shimmering silhouette narrowed its blackish, bluish eyes. It watched the feet dip into the area above, nervously swaying themselves in a playful and bored manner, done solely out of the absence of a task.

A girl in the group? The silhouette asked itself as it peered to the thin legs above. How special… however, the thought's voice continued throughout. I'm more special than you… it told itself as its fists tightened hatefully at the figure's side.

PoVS

Cool grass beckoned, pleaded for a chance of skin, a chance of caressing the hot cheeks of a distressed female. Their wishes were never granted. Not since they were born, they were not. Their long, wavering fingers sewed a blanket of awaiting success, success that was never reached. A hot circle of sun scorched the ground, yet the surface remained fair, in fact, it was cool. A calm, serene area in the middle of the afternoon. Soft breezes whispered past gossiping secrets never told before. It was splendid.

A violet haired girl was still curled into a tight, confined ball of thought, inside a whole trance of her own. Soft fingers of breeze played and fingered her hair as the violet gaze stared off into space absentmindedly. Lost in thought, the only thing that could bring her back now was…

"Teresa!" a voice shouted through the grass. Her attention was immediately grasped and taken hold of. The long-sleeved female picked up her head and stared off into the empty distance called a road, dividing the two large fields of weeded grass. In the distance, a recognizable figure of Daniel the Life Minor appeared. She slumped back into her ball, giving a questionable glance.

Catching the questioned eyes, he cooperatively answered. "I finally found you!" Daniel declared as he hauled his stop, bringing a tired set of hands to his knees as he breathed heavily, pant after pant filling Teresa's ears as she made no effort to make eye contact. "Good," Daniel muttered, bringing one finger to pick up his glasses. "We can't stay too far apart." Teresa made no reply. Or, it was better off to say, she didn't have to need, or want to make one at all. Not even the simplest nod was desired. Daniel, noticing this, chose to ignore it, another chance given, per say.

Suddenly, another figured came from the towering grass. His fiery blue hair was unmistakable. Kenneth, the Ice Minor. Daniel turned his head immediately, his emerald eyes watching his brother carefully. "What?" Kenneth's older voice asked, flashing a hazy look.

Closing in on Daniel's eyes, you could see Kenneth's reflection, and with that, a growing sight of his bright aura. The redhead closed his eyes, silencing his ten ton breaths and thousand pound pants. Reopening them, his emerald gape intertwined with that of his brother's, meeting the sapphire, icy beams. He could see there was still a confused look on Kenneth's expressions. "Sorry," Daniel muttered, turning back to the floor. "I had to check," he explained. Then, Kenneth knew, flashing a sign of realization into his eyes, his cheekbones, his neck, his arms, his feet, everywhere until it calmed him and soothed him, wrapping over him like the shield of surefire protection.

"I see," the blue, fiery haired boy muttered under his breath, the blank expression slowly fading away into a friendlier one, one with more curved lips.

"Okay, so I've sent soul wires branching throughout the area. They last for about a three yard's worth of radius," Daniel explained, bringing himself back up to his full energized feet. Tired hands no long rested upon strained knees. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, making a second's worth of rest. "If anyone comes to us, I'll know, so don't worry yourselves too much."

Kenneth made a slight nod, impressed once again at his brother's thinking ahead. A chilling breeze brushed by, as if one forgotten to catch up with the winter, completely lost in its route to rejoin its own, running past these spring weather breezes, hurrying quickly away from them, afraid of pointed fingers and discriminating mouths. It was solely afraid of the difference between it and everything else.

Suddenly, as if reacting to the lost wind, Teresa gave a cold shiver. She backed up against the gate, the metallic ribs rejecting any further distance, telling her she couldn't escape everything. Teresa brought her legs closer to her chest and her arms tighter around her knees as intense emotion took over her. It was obvious something had changed about her, the way her body trembled uneasily, and the way she tried to hide that fact so desperately. Something was up, and Daniel wanted to know what. Indeed, he wanted to know the answer, but would he find out with words? Or would he see for himself, the danger that Teresa had sensed all along? Kenneth, as well?

"What is it, Teresa-san?" Daniel asked straightforwardly. He was tired of ignoring things. He wanted an answer. Now. His emerald gaze begged for violet ones in return, however, they purple orbs pulled away from him, looking in any direction but his. The emeralds sighed, unwanted. Teresa continued to tremble, acting like she didn't hear a word Daniel had spoken. And Daniel refused to give up. "Teresa? What are you doing? What's going on?" he beckoned. No answer. Just more trembling.

That…that feeling, Teresa told herself as her whole body shook violently, her will no longer able to control herself. That feeling! That unforgettable feeling! What is it doing here!? What does it want from me!?

Eyes flickered on like demonic, dying lights in the distance of the grass. They were far away, but with their range of sight, saw everything. Saw the quivering body of Miroku Teresa, pleased with a deviant smile. They saw the fiery blue head of hair Kenneth lead, and the concerned emerald gaze behind rectangular glasses that reflected off the sunlight, an affection kind of rejection.

And finally, the eyes began to conceive mist. The narrow, reddened eyes that had the eeriest glow fell upon everyone and everything, giving birth to a blanketing fog of blues and purples, of clouded sight and fake clouds. A snickering, malevolent laugh echoed through the field of grass, unnoticed by the three Minors, one trembling in the awareness of fear and danger, as the other two tried to comprehend just what was going on.

The mist crawled. It crawled and crawled like seeping fingers, filtering through the cold cut grass. The grass blades, ever so evasively dodged waves of mist, curving their bodies this way and that, as if they wanted to become acrobats at a circus, a carnival of fun. To be away from this dreaded place, to be away from death and murder every second. To be away from blood caking their hair after every hour of the day, this is what they tried so desperately to escape from. However, something held them here. Something that controlled every being here, and if not every being, the most powerful ones. The weaker ones were all ready dead. There was no purpose for the weak here. There was only survival of the best. Survival of the fittest, it was.

Blue hissing mist soon began to surround Daniel and his teammates, taking them by surprise. "Mist?" Kenneth mumbled as he turned into the distance finding that he could not see anything but the least bit of whispering blue and thick blotches of fog. It was irritating to find such a sight. Not to mention the most troublesome.

"No way," Daniel denied the natural occurrence. "A mist so early in the day?" Daniel piqued, interest confused. He turned as well, green innocence looking through the fog, trying to pull cloud after cloud of it away from them, searching for any hole, a weak spot inside the puffy sheets of mist.

The blueness hissed like a million snakes, screaming, singing to a melody of death. Stench of dried blood filled the puffy fog, sending waves of nausea to the three teammates' stomachs second after dreary second. Chains rattled, metallic, rusty ones caked with blood themselves, moving as their prisoner stirred as well. Demonic, glowing eyes of bloody red more demonic than Sanshouuo pierced through the fog. Then, the threatening wind really started.

PoVS

The Council team ran through the grassland, their steps shuffling through like a mouse being chased by a thousand cats. They hadn't gotten out for so long, and even so, some of them remained tanned. It was strange, really. They needed the exercise, despite their perfectly fit bodies.

They hadn't been running so fast that they were blurs, however. They were at a gradual pace, fast enough yet not too slow to the point where it was just a leisurely walk, or run. Suddenly, Minoa had a noticeable jolt of shock. Her eyes widened in fear. Hanabikai somewhat widened his eyes as well, wondering what just happened. "What is it, Minoa?" he asked.

"That girl…" Minoa whispered to herself, in no intention of speaking to Hanabikai. "What did she do?" she said lowly, barely loud enough for ears to catch. Hanabikai made a concerned face, a tightened expression.

"Who are you talking about?" Hanabikai asked, his voice steady and prepared.

Minoa gulped nervously, trying so hard to push down the tightest knot in her throat she had ever had. And she was the one that lived for at least 500 years. This meant something big. And not to say the least, real. Teresa… she thought to herself. She pictured her purple hair spilling over her innocent, saddened face, eyes pouted as they watered, striving so hard to help yet not succeeding at the least. A sense of failure washed over her face. I don't have a good feeling about this, Minoa thought as she felt her legs weaken, but not give up their speed. "Be safe," she whispered lightly, as if Teresa could hear her, leaving Hanabikai and the two other teammates with blank, dazed expressions. Then, with a burst of energy, Minoa became a blur absentmindedly. And now, so did the other three.


	78. Chapter 78

To the West Side of the Swamp of Mystery the tiger gate growled. Striped ribs poked into the ground, hot warmth of light making a luminescent glow to the black pipes of denying trespass. Shadow covered corners of it, wanting to stretch and grow, a tight triangle of compactness it found itself trapped in. Delicate fingers of wind gripped tightly to limbs of unsightly trees. They lightly combed heads of green, wrapping around timber hips. Eric, Walter, and Mark waited at the gate, jaded as they watched the metal bars glowering back at them in the lively afternoon, yachts of clouds returning, ferries of white puff arriving once again.

Unsuspected, a pair of faded eyes watched them, stalking spheres lingering past the forest, trailing against the floor. I've waited long enough, it told itself. The sun is about to begin to descend towards the horizon. So, let's begin. No smile widened on these lips. Just an utter frown, a secretive seal, hiding clenched teeth of habit. First comes love, a croaky thought sounded, echoing through the one and only mind who could hear it.

Protruding from the shadows came a glimmering blade, a kanji form of love portrayed on its silvery, second-place blade. The curvy, pale and narrow end of the head held a rainbow, blistering star in its hands, playing with it, knocking it side to side. It glowed infatuation, an affectionate, blood caked handle years old from birth. With a swing, the axe was flung through the air, a scissor blade sound slicing through the air. A circle of fading and unfading sunlight whirling like roulette, spinning in a chance of gamble. The flat top spun in deadly, air slashing whorls, zooming through the air, approaching the unnoticing teenagers with a ready silver blade. New blood shall provide a fresh stain and shield the beauty of a glimmering silver.

"Watch out!" Eric cried out as he reached toward Walter, who soon turned around. His brown eyes were narrowed in a sort of annoyed question spoken from the lips of his retina. In a flash, Eric jumped before Walter, arms spread out and legs wide, feet steady against the ground. Walter, still turning in the slowest motion possible took a while to fully understand just what was going on. When he did, it was too late.

Slicing and slashing like a pizza cutter streamed through the air, screaming, singing with a dead melody that had been forgotten to be played. Cries of an eighteen year old boy followed the sound of metal against bone, a sickening shout indeed that died as seconds passed. The scream widened eyes, two sets of brown pearly ones dilating to half their size.

Eric, biting his bottom lip restrained the pain. The blade was right in the middle of his ribcage, and even then, it continued spinning, spilling splotches of blood through the air, an overkill that wouldn't stop, and a train wreck almost, something you couldn't bear to watch, but even so, you had to. More screams from the red clothed boy pierced the afternoon sun and split it in half. Mark said nothing. Walter said nothing. Realization pulling into his eyes, Walter jumped away as he watched the still spinning blade splice right through Eric's chest, cutting a driven hole inside his body.

Stopping to a halt, the axe reversed its rotation, and started back into the darkness. No cries echoed now, things were a blur, voices were silenced, eyes were widened. Fists were clenched and teeth were ground, eyes somewhat wanting to narrow but finding themselves unable to. The blade came back to discolored, grayish hands, the promise of a new stain fulfilled, and then broken. Slowly, the splattered red turned to a thick, tanned brown. Particles fell to the floor in a pile of sediments, a pyramid of sand. "What?" a croaked voice asked.

Unregretful eyes pried themselves off of the hot shiny blade and fell upon a red Minor looking as if he were about to fall to his feet, his knees weak and his legs given up. Then, slowly, as if in slow motion, the red drops that poured from both sides of him turned and dropped to a pile of sediments as well. The skin began to discolor, fading into a dark, earthy brown, thickening into a skin punctured with ancient holes, cragged with deep cracks, vulnerability showing everywhere. Blood was made into sand, skin was made to rock. Wide O's of horror that the statue used to call a rock erupted sunburned sediment as they turned chapped and brown, a cracked kiss in the air. Tongue was carried off by the wind, teeth falling into molded, grayish rocks, color of the dark, stormy sky.

Brown eyes fell to a more deep wood, liveliness being sucked out slowly like a leech in the air. Reflection of sun's light became no reflection at all as hair and clothes was lightly carried away as tiny, compressed particles. Crackling of stone like a wild patch of fire echoed instead of screams now, and wide chunks of brown stone fell to the floor like crushed armor, a new pile of sediments deposited, and its own digestive system. Cheeks and shoulders fell like they were barely attached, hands crumbled to a crisp as if it had never existed. The two fellow Minors watched with the widest eyes, as if they had been shocked as well, for they, too, became brownish, and they too began to spill faucets of sand, founts of crackling stone.

Holding the heavyset axe of "love" in his hands, the owner's croaky voice asked, "No pain paid," as if speaking of a debt, and owing of someone else. Three tall, healthy young boys were now three separate and identical piles of rocks. The sedimentary pyramids lay there like a memoir of trickery, and the deviant eyes narrowed at the thought of it.

From behind, deep into the shadowy forest came a wave of sand. The sand, shaped like a tiger with a thick body and a snake like waist down rushed past the trees. Pointed ears and narrowed, beady eyes threatened as not only its fangs but its whole body hissed wearily, a chorus of intent. Trailing sand three feet behind it, the sand wave shook dust off it, as if caring for cleanliness right before impact. At the same time, curls and whorls of orange and red flame erupted, a trio of blazing dragon tails readying themselves, their red and orange wisps churning together, rolling themselves to gain anticipation and stamina. Together, they lit up the whole forest, lit up the unattractive bodies of trees, crooked, begging hands, and heads of vegetation never given a second glance. Hissing flames fused in unison with the snaking, approaching sand, fuming their hot, yellow glow like an artificial sun.

Dodging swiftly and professionally to his left, the body of the pair of abnormal eyes caused the sand to miss, dissolving themselves into tiny, spread out particles glimmering the light of the growing flame. Now that the tiger was gone, the flames roared. They cracked horridly, swearing revenge for taking its singing partner, and breathed itself onto the ground in a long streak, trailing the hot burning incineration behind it, the team of hot, swirling tails bursting through the ground and air like a dragon's yawn. The streak of flames missed the body ever so slightly, burning a tree to a crisp. The once normal tree was now set ablaze, its green head leaves dispersing to a crisp, its begging, crooked hands now pleading more than ever, a second chance wanted – needed. A cragged body turned ashy, a woody brown turning a smoked gray. A frame of crispy, heated light spiraled around it, taking out its anger on the randomized target.

Thinking he had escaped it, the enemy suspended himself in the air, waiting for gravity to take him back down again, a drag of hate, waiting for the feeling of sinking in quicksand to overtake him. He waited, but not long enough. He watched the show of blistering heat and bursting shine, the tree becoming a star of its own, its peasant hands no longer needed to beg to the sky for a drop of gold from the twinkling night. The tree itself grew angry, demonic tails, whirling, mixed fire churning themselves as if in process cotton candy, the usual curled tail of puffed pink replaced by an angry set of whorls of heated red and vengeance. The demon-set tails burst themselves together in a midair blast, overtaking the enemy and pushing him downward through the forest, bright yellow trailing through the trees and giving them eyes for the first time.

A hot streak pulled the foe backward, and more backward, until to the point where he could not anymore, his back supported by a tree that was slowly leaning away, as if wanting to escape the fire itself. Something about the opponent made it stay, made its feet slower than ones stuck in the ground as roots. As soon as the flames died out to a wisp of ashy, white air, the antagonist was left standing, spinning the handle of his "love" axe wildly, the propeller like movement slowly fading away, gravity's sense of perfectionism getting o it, seeping into it. The world wanted everything perfect. It wanted everything to stay down and stay in place. As the foe took the handle of the axe in his hot, waiting hands, the blade hissed with an eerie tongue, white smoke piling in midair streams above. The hot metal was unaffected, so was the perfected wood, the sign of love unharmed. "Not enough pain," its owner's raspy voice muttered.

Far away in the depths of the newborn shadows of the crisped forest, the real Eric watched, not believing a bit of what he saw. He blocked the attack with… with a spinning axe? Impossible, he though, his mouth hung open in doubt, astonishment filling his eyes and stretching them out into wide diameters. "What does he keep saying though?" Eric asked, wondering just what those words meant.

With a rush of surprise and presence that unaffected the red clothed Minor, Mark jumped from a nearby wooden limb and landed on Eric's. The Fire Minor remained still, not even knowing what to think, his hand lying delicate on the body of an unburned tree, the green head of the panicking, fearful body leaning away from him with the bristling wind. The Earth Minor could hear a loud gulp of nervousness, forcing down a knot in his throat. "It doesn't matter," Mark told him, the heaviness of the weights on his limb desperately ignored. "We have to continue," he told Eric. The Fire Minor gave an assured nod. Mark was pleaded, and sprung off the branch and into the forward darkness once more.

Eric was prepared now. "Maina Ka: Karanpu! –Minor Fires: Firelight-" Eric held out a busied hand and sent out a large yellow sun, a sphere of heat levitating through the forest. Its ominous glow clicked and not clicked upon bodies and bodies in the campus, all wondering if they would be the next to be incinerated to an ashy crisp. Their faces were frozen with horror, their bodies leaning away from the center of all the fighting, their roots slowly and impatiently disconnecting. The blazing fireball shot like a heat seeker past the trees and aimed for the still concealed enemy. Light of the fire was the only way to find his face – but not for long. The fireball shattered into wisps of candle's flame as the rival dodged easily, somewhat stumbling on his feet. He hadn't made an attempt to attack back, underestimating the prowess of the three Minors. Three… Would this be his downfall?

Mark landed a fair distance away, unseen by the now unsuspecting opponent. His stance shifted powerfully, the Half Spirit in him screaming and banging for a chance to come out; its wishes were granted. Brown energy filled the insides of his arms as Mark released it invisibly. The ground around him flipped over patch by invisible patch, sewing itself to the underside of its actual form. The flat forest grounds became a mushy, uneven quagmire, and was about to erupt against the foe.

The unseen opponent jumped out from the trees and into the sunlight, dodging the wave of quagmire; Mark smirked as he fixed himself, standing straight. The two Minors remained in the darkness as the enemy found himself in midair, waiting once again for the force of gravity to pull him down. He wondered why it defied him so much. Time slowed, one of heaven's arsenals of clocks and hourglasses breaking, cracking a vulnerable spot into visibility. Noticing deviant dots of transparency above as he remained midair with his back facing the ground, his pure black eyes widened, his mouth giving a short gasp, not one of too much emotion, though. This was not his type of style that he found himself to be.

Far away, settled on the ground, Walter stood, arms crossed and legs straight together. Blue energy circled him like a round shield of protection, pouring out constantly into the air to show the level of his new attempt. "Suihangan!" he shouted. The tiny bullets of water burst into action, one after the other falling with immense pressure to the new enemy's body, a million breaking raindrops. The half invisible specks raining down with crazed power, bringing a better sense of gravity to the impatient body of the rival. The bullets pushed him to the ground, erupting loud amounts of smoke all together, dusty brown whispering into the air and the sound of cracking ground beneath the back of the foe. No cries were made, but none were needed.

The loud echoes rumbled the ground, as if construction were taking place. Trees shook their head full of puffy leaves, rattling them like an infant's toy. Once again, as the smoke cleared faster than usual, the enemy was found with the swirling axe of love again, bubbles of wet air dissolving, his body completely unharmed. Walter squinted and grunted at the wasted attack.

Getting up to his feet, rocks bounced to the ground off his back. It seemed hard for him to do so, his legs seemingly weak yet not weak at all, his shoulders drooping in their sockets, as if he were a sickly, elderly being that needed to be taken care of every second of their lives. His eyes were dark, demonic and black, pure ebony with nothing to hide. His lips were crooked, always struck in an upset frown, always serious and full of pain and sorrow. His discolored gray skin reminded Walter of Sanshouuo and Gaia. His hairstyle was somewhat the same as well, the gray kind of ones that drooped down the side of your head, like Hyoumaru's, floppy dog ears almost. Deep, red scars sliced at the backside of his abdominals, as if two thin slits for storing something, and one of them did. One of them held the "hate" axe. He wore an old style, raggedy kind of skirt. Although it looked like a skirt it was long and old-styled, more like very wide pants with a topped layer of fabric from the waist down. He wore no shirt, proud of his rigid body. "Love goes first," he suddenly began speaking, holding the love axe to Walter's face who was yards away, as if threatening him. "… then is replaced by hate, and when it does, it all comes crashing down on you when you least expect it and will follow you wherever you go," he explained, a random saying that somewhat confused Walter, forcing a strained, jumbled expression out of him.

What is he talking about? Walter asked himself, tightening his fists and fixing his stance, readying himself to the fullest extent.

"You should pay attention to what I say," the enemy warned. "You just might tie against me," he said, his serious lips still frowning in a no-fun symbol. Walter scoffed.

PoVS

Marissa thought, her eyes lost in a trance as they stared off into the emptiness of space. The jagged rock had not supported her even for a second, its prickly, rocky feel uncomfortable to her legs and thighs. How many more hours? She thought, asking herself how much longer she really had to stay in this place full of danger. She swayed her feet up and down in a childlike pattern, the ripples of the water slowing them down and comforting them as they tickled her feet with fun-loving, elfish hands.

Lance sighed as he got up to his feet, tired from a short rest and packing things. They had eaten their last meal, and Rick was kind enough to give up most of his meals for the whole week. That guy sure is one with a strong will, Lance told himself, watching the blonde sit gracefully on the floor, legs crossing each other in a friendly pat. His tired, tanned hands were at his knees, as if supporting himself while sitting. His eyes were closed meditatively, his blow hair swimming in the bristling breezes that brushed by once in a while. Turning to his side and taking his mind off the sacrificial Minor, he watched the calm, murky waters of the lake and watched Marissa play in it. Sounds of splashing of her feet were easy to hear even at his distance. She might get sick like that, fooling around in water with such a color, Lance thought. He sighed and actually examined the water. I think this is the only gate that has its legs rooted inside a body of water, Lance realized as the stench of sickly murk filled his nostrils with nausea. How can she be so close to it and not throw up?

The horrid stench was knocked away from Lance's conscience as he peered to the right of the lake, and found a puddle right by the bank. However, this puddle piqued Lance's interest. Any normal puddle _might_ have been fine, but this one was different. That puddle… Lance thought, beginning a new sense of tone. It's fresh water and really blue and clear…. The Metal Minor noticed. But… this lake is made of murky water, not clear water. So that means… Lance took a sharp gasp. His eyes stretched as if they had just awoken from a deep sleep. The silver gaze fell upon the water, and his eye for detail caught everything. No way! He thought in disbelief. Then he realized something again. Marissa. No! "Marissa!" Lance cried out desperately. Marissa's attention was caught in the tension and panic that she didn't even realize was there. The blonde turned her head in acknowledgement, her face blank with a kind of "what" question painted over it with obviousness. "Marissa!" Lance continued to cry out. Her questionable gaze grew even longer. "The water! Get away from the water!" the silver haired boy waved his arms frantically, motioning for her to get away.

When the words finally reached her ears, Lance thought it might've been too late. The blonde turned to the lake, and the calm waters began ripples, ripples that were far away and started horrid currents with bursting water. Marissa gasped, not really sure of what was going on and slipped her feet from the water easily, that same cool feeling that gave her comfort now giving her a sense of parasitic fear. She slipped on her shoes as fast as she could, feeling the coldness and wetness of her feet get absorbed by the wooden finish of the Geta slippers. Water began pushing out from the lake and came out in snaking waves like enormous tubes, arms that wanted to grapple Marissa tightly and overtake her into the water. They needed a new friend, and now it was time to choose one.

"Damn it!" Lance cried out as he watched Marissa run as fast as she could towards him. The wave of water was hot on her trail, and the Metal Minor knew she wasn't going to make it. With a burst of speed, Lance sped to her rescue, taking her in his arms and bringing her outward from the bank of the lake, and setting her to his side. His arms slipped easily off away from her. "Everyone just stay attentive," Lance told everyone as he saw Rick rise to his feet, giving the dragon-like bodies of water swim through the air. Lance couldn't help but force down a tight knot in his throat. What the hell was going on?! 

Slowly, he removed the leather gloves he had put on from the first fight. He stuffed them uneasily into his pocket, feeling the soft leather pile against his thighs and the coolness of the lake area begin to overtake his hands and fingers, giving them a sensational feeling. "This could get dangerous," he muttered silently to himself. Marissa caught his words in her reluctant ear, and she winced and gasped, afraid of the danger that could take place. At some point, she wished she was knocked out again and protected once more like she was in the last battle. Did she feel guilty for that emotion? Even she couldn't answer that.

"So you think you're special," a voice sounded as a being softly rose from the rushing waters. His skin was wet and his eyes were narrowed demonically. His face was covered in a deep shade of the rushing waters above that slowly churned downward, losing their energy to the other. Strong currents played around with him, but he wasn't afraid. He controlled the currents, in his book. "…you're not!" the voice screeched, narrowing eyes taking place. A powerful glow inside his burning, scorching deviant glare showed itself, and a wide grin of preparedness installed growth as well, tensing Lance and all his muscles throughout his body.

With one afraid girl, one injured condition of a boy, and one who just hurt himself from certain _training_, can they really defeat an opponent who rules the area of the eastern dragon gate?


	79. Chapter 79

"Damn!" Lance said aloud, words meaningless. "Stay back!" he commanded Marissa, a hand motion of seriousness as he ran frantically across the bank of the lake. His voice rumbled in a panicky, hurried voice, one rushed and tense, unable to make clear and calm tones.

"Lance!" Marissa cried out affectionately. Affection towards him? No, but affection towards his safety. She could feel it about to happen again. The feeling of her becoming a nuisance. It slowly started at her feet, sparking and jumping as if in preparation, and then leapt up her legs and churned in her stomach, freezing her arms with an arctic, subzero cold. Her voice seemed to chase after him while his legs did not heed. She watched his hesitant shadow trail behind him, silhouetted arms jogging up and down, legs shaking like working pumps.

Stopping at the wide lake's side, Lance peered at the water. His legs hauled to a stop, his slippers scraping the floor in a nerve pulling tone. Lance bent to his knees, as if positioning himself in a leapfrog game. His hands touched the floor in activation, a dot of perspiration slowly trailing away from his forehead. Naked hands felt the smooth surface of the ironically jagged ground as a silver glare locked onto a shimmering silhouette underwater, clearly seen from its shallow distance.

Underwater, aquatic layers shimmered in the strong sunlight, filtering through the wet, open holes of intervened murkiness. Pillars of downpour sunlight faded lowly into the lake's extreme depth, bubble after bubble trailing jaggedly upward in a dazzled jump. From the dark lake's depth sprung an arsenal of needles from below, surprising the constantly moving enemy. The slim body of the discolored opponent slid away easily, the five or seven needles trailing their own spheres of needy bubbles in the water. The seven shimmering snakes found their way outside, bursting water as they rose with exhaustion, faded sunlight flicking them like hateful nails. The needles fell back into the water, limp and dense, floating at first as the currents raged, and then sinking deeply in a zero confidence. More armies of metallic fingers burst out, a syringed trail swiftly following that of the dark, puddle silhouette.

So he set up traps beforehand underground, the rival thought as he dodged each one the best he could, trying very carefully to not get hit. Not too bad, he commented meaninglessly, voicelessly. Bursting needles came at him from below as he fell much more below sea level, slanting downward like a slumped missile underwater. Sounds of bubbling water filled his ears and affected him in no way.

Above the water, Lance watched the shifting currents give triangles of sharpened teeth, washing the air as if it had an eternal filth that was thick yet unnoticed in the air. Sifting waves washed away the darkened silhouette, dazing the pool of presence away into deep nothingness. "Shit, I lost him," Lance muttered, less angry than last time. His naked hand turned metallic, a glowing luster coating it. Thin fingers thickened, layered with delectable steel, the shape and size transforming like manipulated jelly. Gritted teeth of awe ground themselves readily, eyes of no rust watching the chameleon hand of shape, the structure stretching material forming a long, impressive length. The metal ends sharpened, reflecting strong lustrous beams everywhere, miniature stars unnoticed that heightened the circle of heaven. A thin line connected the two pointed ends, the hand and fingers gone now and mound into a silver, honest bow. A piercing, darted arrow grew from the exterior of the steel weapon, shaping itself straight and narrow, a threatening, piercing glow to it, and its head proud and read, rattling in the bow's arms.

Lance watched carefully at the mobile pyramids dancing like stage props across from end to end of the lake, holding the heavy, metal weapon in his hand, or to be more specific, wrist, preparing himself to fire. The horizontal shape of the position made him seem thin yet powerful, the long metal glimmering in the heated sunlight. Leftover metal seemed to thicken. His hand had never felt so heavy, so big and threatening. Lance watched for the shadow to appear to the surface again, waiting patiently and impatiently for the altering waters to calm and quiet.

Seeing the silhouette quickly return to the surface, the dark, shadowy puddle rushed in supersonic speed, just barely caught by the Metal Minor's eye. In unprepared instance, Lance fired the arrow, halfheartedly aiming for the dark splotch in the water as distraction faked him out. The metal dart landed in the water inches away from the tail of the figure, splashing water everywhere like a fish out of water. The figure continued racing, and seemed to be heading for…

"Surprise!" the being jumped from the water at the end of the lake. Marissa gasped aloud, her eyes widening in shock and fear. The foe's hand was brought into the sky like a reeled attack, readying itself with elongated nails of deviance and a discolored skin of memory gray. Prickly, sea-green fins latched themselves onto his skin, fishy gills at his cheekbones. A hand was brought to support Marissa's open lips, to cover her widened features as a threatening shadow fell over her. There was no time. No time to run, no time to escape, no time to think. No time to breathe.

With a burst of anxious energy, Lance blurted out, "Marissa!" in despair, the metallic bow falling to the side of his hands like an open hand of trust, molding itself back into the worried hand it once was. Silvery eyes lost their luminary bodies and froze the moment in time at which it caught, its dream to become a camera succeeding one step after another. Marissa, realizing there was no room in the clock for escape, squinted her eyes, wincing even before the pain seared through her body like a three second poison. Seconds later, shocked lips quivered. Grunted, restrained cries of pain gave rapture to the soundless sky and solemn bodies of trees, their fingers quite not finished with their life-long beseeching, tempting. And finally, as if solidifying the sky canvas and smearing it with blackish red paint, blood blotched the empty portrait of clouds and sunless horizon, filling it with a sense of death and despair, a trailing sickening crack of bone and wound lightly clicking the nausea in faraway stomachs.

PoVS

Tufts of murmuring blue and gossiping purple hissed electrically, as if bright sparks between two wires erupted, emitting the frozen sound of a snake's playful tongue. Piercing sun soon became an empty moon, a distant circle of light that cut through a tiny slit in the whispers of blankets, a memory forgotten. Fingers of periwinkle wisps reached out in greed, palms pleading for chance after chance, wish after wish come true. The breath of an arctic cold exhaled from the trees, emanating a cloud of sky cobalt. Selfish hands and wrists cleared the way, showing its conceited body and self conscious head, filling the afternoon with a blistering touch of autumn evening.

Musical notes floated about, invisible, distorted letters curving their paths and filling shocked, alarmed ears. Intense, sharp tones gave one whorl ripples through the air, visible enough to the human eye, the only thing one could see at this point. Music played like a broken record, unable to stop, playing the same tune over and over again, yet at the same time, not the least bit claiming monotony.

Yomi Derek combed his hair with immobile fingers, a driving wrist collecting his dots of sweat, the hot beads chilled in the cool, settling haze. The prickly spikes of his hair were comfortable to swim in, tiny, normal webs between fingers disappointed when it was over. Tanned skin became blanketed with pale azure. The blackness of his hair and clothes shaded over, the Shadow Minor and his teammates watched meticulously at the growing, spreading mist, an overdose pizza topping. "What's this mist?" Kawari asked, a hard swallow given, easy to hear in the closed space. Transparent music notes continued.

"Be careful," Derek warned, bringing everyone's faraway thought into conscience. Few shifted their feet, readying themselves for who knows what. Clicking and clacking like wooden slots sliding into each other gave empty sighs into the mist, as if limbs of a puppet rattling each other. The four teenagers continued to watch, not knowing of any action fit for the situation.

Mist piled onward, filling the whole afternoon with a great shivering of spines. A darkish silhouette blackened the center of the mist. Dancing limbs paced their way unsteadily forward, the block splotch of a figure shaking uncontrollably. Fingers danced themselves on a pipe – arms held close together securely as if lacking self confidence. The sight clenched fists and slid feet in preparation. Brows quivered in soft chill, others narrowed, forcing eyeballs downward. The being got closer and closer, limbs of discolored green showing themselves with their connected links, vulnerable and strange overconfidence prancing around, silent steps tapping the road of dirt with an unnoticed touch. "What should we do?" Dylan muttered, stimulating his pure white hair in a whisper.

"We fight," Kawari answered completely. Shocked expressions went all around. "Watch out!" he yelled, his voice rising ten times over, electrifying faces even more.

Cries of utter stunning fled from broken mouths, slits to oval darkness pried open. I can't move, Derek told himself, trying to move his feet frantically. His attempts turned useless. Headless snakes of bamboo erupted from the ground invisibly without noise and wrapped around the ankles, connecting each other like imprisoning cuffs. Fumes of thick purple streamed from their sharpened – pearl tea straw heads and consumed the four teenagers trapped. Poison fumes! Kawari noticed instantly. "No one breathe!" Kawari warned as the purplish puffs strung themselves a web closer and closer to Kawari's reluctant face. "Don't breathe in the poison!"

Everyone held their breaths instantaneously, forced to listen to the streaming chorus of intense, dreaded notes. Harmonious music never sounded so harsh. Oh man, Zack whined immaturely in his head to himself. His mouth was puffed in a pout of displeasure and life-saving attempt. I've got to… Zack told himself as he crossed his arms in front of him, as if protecting him from the musical, deadly sounds piercing the mist like pointed needles, sewing each and every bit of the thick blanket together, tightening its contents. Breezes at his feet began to swirl around him, curling around his legs like affectionate hands. A swirling, light tornado began to whorl around him, turning his clothes this way and that, giving him comfort as the dark smoke was dusted away from him and everyone else. Slicing winds cut off the prisoner cuffs and freed everyone. Winds calmed, and freedom returned. "Nice, Zack," Derek complimented him for the first time, flashing no smile of friendship, just acknowledgement, which barely provided a smirk.

"Good," Dylan said, removing his feet from the spot where he had been standing, removing the discomfort in him. "Quick, get away!" he warned his teammates, as he flicked his fingers, growing seeds in an instant. The three boys obeyed, jumping off backwards into the mist, soon followed by Dylan who threw the army of seeds forward at the dancing silhouette. Explosion crackled through the air like lightning, static from the long disappeared miasmic clouds.

Dylan joining the group behind a couple of trees, all four readied their stances and prepared their arms. "We'll have to keep our distance from her if we're going to fight," Derek warned his teammates. They nodded in acknowledgement. "She seems to use that flute a lot." More snaking bamboo emerged from tiny holes in the ground and protruded silver daggers glimmering in the nonexistence of light, a hot, steamy purple liquid tinting their point blade. They threatened with a cat like his, purring like a lion in power.

"Please," Kawari begged out of nowhere. He was given puzzled looks. His eyes did not wander off to any of the other ones watching his back; his gaze was tight on the swimming bamboo, wavering their blade as if playing with it, toying with it. "Let me go first," he made things clear.

"Y-Yeah," Derek stammered in acceptance, his eyes becoming just a tiny bit more open, hiding some of his icy stares for now. His brows tried to join together worriedly, handsome eyebrows wanting to smother each other for warmth in the cold, numbing mist.

"I'll show you…" Kawari began, bringing his left arm to his side. He rolled up his sleeves, and revealed his normal, human forearm. His naturally wide eyes were narrowed in a mean glare, a ready glare, as if he had done this process a thousand times. "What I can really do."

PoVS

Teresa shivered in the cold, growing mist. Mist piled here and there, going everywhere in every direction, memories flashing in her mind, memories with unclear images. A compacted, shivering ball was what she was, vulnerable to break into tiny sediments anytime of the haze. She did not think. She did not speak. She did not move except for her skin, which shook uncontrollably in a memory of fear.

"No way," Daniel muttered as he stared off into the hissing source of the mist. A dark silhouette painted itself, coming closer and closer with slow, time-taking steps, as if the owner was in no hurry. Rattling of bloodstained and rusted chains clattered against each other as they hung low from Japanese style sleeves, dragging across the floor and scraping the ground eerily, sending a chill down Teresa's spine. "How can someone be in such a close range and not be caught by my soul wires?" Daniel asked, confounded. He watched at the steady, careless steps of the arriving opponent. More clattering of old metal occurred, piercing the frothy, snowy mist. The graceful, unhurried feet easily stepped forward, not dodging a centimeter, moving an inch to its side to dodge the tens of thousands of tiny, invisible strings placed through the area.

"Daniel," the Life Minor's sibling muttered with a sympathetic look on his face. He knew how much Daniel loved his plans and how brilliant they were at times. "Was there a flaw in your scouting?"

"No," Daniel denied, reluctant. How did he do it? Could it be an illusion that he's using? What?

"In fact, there is a flaw you missed," a new voice came into conversation. Teresa shuddered more violently than ever. Rattling chains shook the emerald eyes of Takiato, Daniel. It forced a tight knot into his throat. The redhead forced it right back down. The voice was creepy and raspy, a ghost like, demonic voice, totally out of this world; abnormal. Heavy steps of silence continued, giving a two ton heartbeat every time the tip of the toes tapped the ground. Rattling chains shook again like church bells indicating afternoon.

Teresa took a deep breath, unable to control her emotions, her state of mind. That voice! She told herself in a scream. The empty walls in her head echoed after her. "Teresa…" Kenneth noticed her reaction. She watched the purple haired girl in despair. What's with her? He asked himself, unable to answer his own question.

The approaching enemy seemed to scoff, barely heard in Daniel's notifying ears. "Looks like she remembers me," the raspy voice said. Daniel was shocked. His emerald gaze widened into a dilation of ten times over. His teeth froze and stopped grinding, his clenched fist became loose like a blunt rope. Slowly and daringly, he turned over his shoulder, giving a surprised glance to the shaking, powerful Minor. "Teresa?" he asked in a light voice of disbelief. She shivered in reply. Her arms wrapped around each other like a desperate blanket of warmth, failing their only purpose. Does she know this guy? Daniel asked himself with expanded eyes. "You," Daniel called out to the approaching silhouette, shrinking his eyes to their normal size. The shaded opponent cracked its neck in reply, smiling an evil grin even visible at their distance. Kenneth seemed to gulp nervously. "You're not from here are you?" he asked interrogatively, shocking Kenneth with the question.

Daniel held a fist to his chest, as if holding an invisible dagger. Then the dagger became seen, a pointed, sharp piece of soul energy like a glass shard held tightly in between his fingers and palm, the soul energy's light was drained through the slits between each clenched finger, filtering outward like a hopeful star wanted to be kept a secret between closed hands. "No, now," the enemy began, walking forever. "Let's not get too hasty. However, you are correct. I am not from these parts," he explained.

"I knew it," Daniel muttered to himself. "Someone from around here has a slim chance of knowing Teresa at all," the redhead explained. Kenneth gasped. He knows her? Kenneth asked himself, peering to the shaking violent strands of hair coming from the bowed head of the traumatized Minor. I never knew that she could be so involved with such serious things…

"But even so, I'm more powerful than all fools that dwell here. I'll warn you to play seriously with me," the incoming foe instructed, his steps pacing forever in the cool, eternal mist. His eyes narrowed demonically, red, piercing suns forced into a molded triangle.

Tension and panic began to enter Daniel's emotions. Fear filled his eyes once again, the fear of before the fight with Shintenmaru returning, just what he was scared of. He took a deep sigh, letting out his emotions as he closed his eyes gracefully, slowly working on washing them away, trying to calm his nerves and his senses. Calm down, calm down, the redhead told himself, the slow chant slowly washing away the panic inside him, his eyes still shut and resistant to watch the quickly spreading mist like peanut butter on bread. Find out more about this guy first, and then be scared, Daniel went on in his mind, claming himself even further. Don't get afraid. Is he a close or long ranged fighter? Serious or not serious? Physical or inner pain inflictor? He continued to pour brainstorming questions into his mind for him to answer, for him to work on and ignore his pain with effort on something else. What are his abilities? What's his style of defense? His speed?

"I wonder," the voice broke into his thoughts. Daniel gasped as his emeralds reopened, revealing their scarce in confidence. The glowing dagger of soul energy emitted a low hum that only he could hear, the soft chorus calming to him somehow. He was grateful for it. "Are you still thinking about how I got over your soul wires?" Daniel took a sharp, silent gasp. How did he know about them? So he isn't just invulnerable to them, he actually saw them? Noticed them?! How? Those things are invisible! The only type of person who could see it is a… no… impossible. He's not one of those. What am I thinking? Be logical! Daniel commanded of himself. But even so, that still did not change the facts.

"I'll tell you how," the enemy muttered, "however, I still wonder…" His voice trialed off. He brought his sleeves to his head and smiled a deviant grin. The red, piercing eyes shot through the forest like ten bullets put into one. A glimmering point of nonexistent light and metal came from faraway as his steps suddenly came to a halt. "Should I kill you first and then tell you, or should I tell you, and then kill you?"

Daniel cried out in horror. Was he really going to…too late. The decision had been made.


	80. Chapter 80

"Your soul wires connect through the whole area in a certain diameter, correct?" the ebon shadow spoke loud and clear. Daniel sighed secretly in relief. He didn't want to give the pleasure of knowing that he had been scared to the enemy and his frozen feet. Misty haziness crawled like a newborn baby across the ground, sticking to it like a hot fuzz on a fresh cup of coffee. "However, you are the center of where those wires all connect to. So when you move towards the South Vermillion Bird's Gate, you have to maintain that diameter that you created. But, when the center point of the wires moves towards the south, the amount of energy released towards the south thickens, because your distance towards it decreases, while the ones towards the north loosens and thins. This way, they are easily accessed and give a wider space to walk through, and with my ability to see them, they are nothing but wires made of thread to me."

To be able to see those wires… Daniel thought, feeling his glasses slump down the slope of his nose. He was too tense to bring a hand to fix them this time. Too tense to flex a muscle. Just what is he? Dreaded chains rattled once more, a chant for the everlasting mist, a constant growing in a permanent spurt. "What is that tense face you're putting on?" the shadowy figure muttered mockingly.

Daniel shifted nervously. The shadowy emanation chortled, worriless. "How amusing," he muttered, narrowing the bright greens of the edgy redhead.

"Don't underestimate me!" Daniel cried out as he threw the hot, glowing dagger through the air, a sharp slicing noise as it soared toward the unthreatened figure. A silhouetted dance easily dodged the bright luminary triangle of yellow and green. Ground teeth showed anger of a miscalculated accuracy. As the blackened figure stirred to its feet again, its legs and ankles lazy as they stumbled to their balance, steps drunk in an unplanned dance, the world seemed topsy-turvy on the opponent. He swung his arms for equilibrium, his long, Japanese sleeves firing a long iron dagger, thickened to pitch-blackness, bound by a chain of hell, a link of fury, and a bond of sin. The parallelogram shape of the narrow, metallic dagger screeched with friction against the air, a confident rattling of chains sharp against Daniel's ears and Kenneth's frozen stare.

Ducking in panic, the redhead squinted and put hands to his head, taking no chance as the rocketing chain soared past him, a jangle of train track chains cho-chooing in his mind. "Duck!" he demanded his brother nervously. The fiery blue-headed boy followed at the last second. The chained dagger plummeted right past him, too, but this time, it was sure it was to make a hit. Confident eyes twinkled in the nonexistence of illumination, determined sharp edges slicing the air with a sickening sharpness, a rocket waiting for victory as it approached the trembling Minor curled up in a ball against the gate. "Teresa!" Daniel cried out to her, still on his shaky knees, watching with stretched spectacles at the violet shivering. The rumbling of the treacherous chain neared.

Everyone waited. Screeching of metal against metal was heard, and relieved sighs exhaled from panic-lifted lips. Eyes closed in liberated tension, muscles loosening in a release of worry, which only seconds later returned. Eyes opened once more with restarted recaptured tension, the relief of sighs were drawn back in with a horrid, sharp gasp. Muscles tightened in worried preparation. The dagger, having wrapped around one of the strong, muscular ribs of the moist, misty gate clattered as it revolved around the bar, circling it like a dog chasing its tail. Teresa remained stationary, even more caught in her frosty trance, her arctic muscles frozen in a large block of ice she called her past. Her eyes were isolated, shaking of the polar hoarfrost, trying to desperate chisel their way out. Slits between teeth became icy bars, chattering even in their own pacific freeze. Arms held each other for warmth, cell partners for the rest of time, legs put together like bent chopsticks, waiting to sink themselves in a hot, grainy rice to warm themselves once more.

The dagger made a slight cut on the sixteen year-old's cheek, a tiny scratch that needed just a second to exert blood in a tiny, miniscule drop. The hotness of the liquid chilled quickly, now frosty with arctic fingers, that one tear shed from skin lightly trailing down Teresa's cheek. Her eyes broadened as she felt the slight warmth it gave her as it strolled downward to its plummet. Icy prison bars halted their glacial tremble of desperation as all nerves seemed to calm – replaced by an immobile panic. The hot red drop seemed to seep into her skin, hitting her with more memories, whacking her against the head with a bag full of shards, times broken and forgotten until now. The shards fell like rain, and she, being the frozen stare, watched each one of them, peering into a fading past as they poured down. Violet eyes couldn't decide which direction to chisel in next. Iced teeth were sealed between two frostbit lips. The only motion was the soft trickle of violet hair against skin, fingers of the mist playing and curling it, keeping themselves busy as they dominated the afternoon sky.

The lit dagger remained there, still bound together by the enemy's arm by a long chain of determination. Trauma consumed and tightened around Teresa, a discolored hand of memory with sickening green fingers wrapping around her with long, dagger-like nails. Darkness surrounded them, and she had no one there – no friendships, no relations to break her out of it, no string connected to another person to pull her out. Outside her trance, mist continued onward. Birds fluttered blindly through the new sky, blackened, ashy wings of confusion leaving behind trails of softened, invisible feathers. More daggers similar to the first flung out from sleeves of the silhouette being, a horizontal downpour full of them. Daniel ducked and dodged eagerly, jumping backward as Kenneth followed. Kenneth, being the more daring one, quickly jumped to Teresa's aid, and tightly lifted her in tense, cold arms as the three rushed away into the mist, unseen. They had finally used to icy cover to their benefit. As they disappeared, a daggers eager and angry blade clattered against a metal rib and was deflected, the spot Teresa had been curled up against, bright lines called sparks coming out instantaneously, fading away as they tapped the ground with curious fingers.

A loud ping sounded through the forest, soon enveloped in the mist, eaten away by puffy blues, consuming all cries for help. The chains and daggers were reeled back inward towards the enemy, who began his normal pace again. Heavy chains dragged against the floor and rattled eerily, cries of past murders forgotten to be used. Sounds of scraping rust against dirt gave the fog a three course meal. "Running away again?" the voice muttered in amusement, arms swaying lightly with the absence of wind.

"What's with her?" Daniel muttered worriedly as he crouched against Teresa's frozen body, eyes broad with horror, teeth lightly clenched in a forgetful force. Forearms crossed each other in insecurity, toenails now blue with icy blood. Kenneth slowly laid Teresa's body against the trunk of a tree, where she continued to tremble again, now able to move ever so slightly from the distance created between her and the antagonist side. Her consciousness had been washed away, sleeping with her eyes open.

"I don't know," Kenneth answered as he brought himself back up to the feet, making perfectly sure that she was fine in the position he put her in. He brought a finger to his candle-like hair, feeling the not too long and not too shortness of it, the prickly blue strands stabbing the palm of his affectionate hand, demanding its horrid ugliness as a mate. "She's in some sort of trauma," Kenneth explained as the two watched her non stop trembling. "So what now?"

Daniel thought for a bit. His body still crouched towards Teresa, he wondered if he was getting a little too close. Was he disturbing her with his presence so near? There was no way to know. Anything they did, she would tremble to, an omni-dance for any song. Closed eyes in focus reopened themselves with enlightenment. Emerald green glimmered without light, not needing it at all. "We leave her here until she snaps out of it," Daniel concluded. Kenneth seemed surprised and a bit disgusted at the answer, displeased. "There's not much we could do now. Meanwhile, we'll get the enemy's attention away from this direction. We can't risk her life right now."

"Yeah," Kenneth agreed, changing his thoughts towards the plan. He knew his brother wouldn't let him down. "I'll go first. You think of what to do while I distract him," Kenneth suggested.

"That would be the clear thing to do, however…" Daniel's voice trailed off. A pure green curiosity glared at his older brother. A curious, confused stare dotted back. "I worry for your current physical condition. Are you really that okay after fighting Hyoumaru? If it weren't for me, you'd be…" he couldn't finish the sentence. He could bear to say the word at all.

"Don't worry about it. I'm perfectly fine now. Hyoumaru's an expert in medicine and herbs. He treated my wounds right after you made that miracle," Kenneth explained, using different terms to give comfort to his brother. The redhead sighed, and reluctantly agreed, turning his head away to face Teresa's fearful glare into space.

"Fine," he said unenthusiastically. Kenneth nodded, wondering if it really were "fine." "Be safe," Daniel insisted, knowing that those words wouldn't make a difference. More things to worry about piled on top of his conscience, burying it with anxiety. He watched with conscious green eyes as his brother's back disappeared into the mist, his blueness slowly fading into a tinier, tinier dot, until finally, he disappeared completely. The apparition figure's chains rattled in noticing. Daniel gulped at the sound, trying to shut it away with squinted eyes. If he won't be safe, I will, Daniel muttered as he flicked a finger towards his brother's route's direction, firing a tiny, invisible string of soul energy from his pointed index.

Kenneth ran past clouded shrubs and missed their heavy greenness, even though before all this happened, they were a sign of disgust and nausea. Grudged fingers of trees thick with hate were covered over, working for god to shame them with masks of puffy blue and sickly purple. The ground was clean with frost blue, chilling to his ankles and revealed forelegs, yet not chilling enough. His skin was hot with some nervous perspiration, heating his skin to a boil. The sun desperately tried to pierce the cold, yet it failed. The area of fog proved Apollo's prowess wrong. Suddenly he was stopped. He halted his eager steps and ducked just in time to dodge a swing of a chained dagger. The sound of snapping wood on a body of a despaired tree crackled the air and gave shivers shivers. A tiny slit was made as the pointed head dug into its greedy wrist. The chain bound them together was spiked with pointed thorns, a stem of a black, rusty rose with a petal-less bud.

Unable to regain energy in time, the apparition silhouette jumped from the rustled, misty bushes and reeled in a hard punch. It finally revealed its ugliness- discolored green hands as if it were a goblin carried heavy, long fingernails, fangs of their own almost. An old Asian hat of ghosts was donned on his head, hair tied back and unnoticed in the hateful mist. A crescent smile was claimed by evil, fake eyeholes of happiness, plaster mask caked by darkness and blood. Tiny moon slits called eyeholes of the mask glowed an eerie red as the body wore an ironically clean outfit, donning a kind of clothing Mark wore without the weights and extra long sleeves like Teresa. Gripped fist tight with anger and fake happiness, the punch reeled in longer, and as the light being neared, a cracking crash burned the mist.

Dust and pebbles erupted from the crash, clouding the two bodies in a curtain of finale. No winds were present to lift them and please the absent crowd. But no winds were needed now. With tiny, elongated wisps of dust clinging onto every aspect of his body, Kenneth was flung out from the rising cloud of dust and gray smoke, fingers of greedy, selfish dust wanting to overtake him tightly, yet failing as they sunk back to their conceited threshold. Kenneth landed on his feet, Geta slippers clicking the floor like a flick of a light switch lightly, nothing wrong with him but dust in parts of his Japanese old styled clothing, wounds either not there or invisible. He was completely unharmed, this amazed, blue haired boy, and he began to wonder why. I was dragged out of the smoke right after I dodged that punch, Kenneth told himself. But I didn't dodge it on my own will. I wasn't prepared to dodge, so why did I dodge?

Something inside him clicked, as if someone had shouldered him against the back lightly with the tiniest, microscopic shoulder ever created. Eyes widened in astonishment. I see, Kenneth thought in realization. Thank you, Daniel; he gave gratitude to his redhead brother.

Dust cleared eerily, whispering away with the mist and giving known presence to the waiting opponent standing, waiting for the smoke to clear, not the least bit intolerant of this fight at all. In fact, he decided to take his time. He wanted fun, after all, and he was very serious about his fun. "What's this?" its creepy, croaky voice asked. His sounds seemed ghastly as his low chains and slouched back gave an eerie hiss of threat. "A string? I see. You can't protect yourself so you have to be a puppet of your teammate?" the opponent asked mockingly, absentmindedly. "I understand now. So you're going to play serious with me. Then, in that case," the apparition-looking monster approached. "I shall play serious with you as well."

Quickly and invisibly, the opponent looked up, giving a spine-chilling glare as his silhouette began fading away. His sleeves were becoming blurred, bending rules of reality as his mask stretched and distorted horridly, until all the color faded away, and all was gone except the known presence of an invisible man. W-What? Kenneth thought as his eyes became broad with confusion. Daniel… what do I do now? he thought as if his brother could hear him.

I know, Daniel thought, as if knowing what Kenneth had been thinking. The strategic Minor had been watching over his brother's fight and Teresa at the same time, taking constant shifting glances between the two of them, one picture tense and mobile, the other the exact opposite – being lonely and panicky, as well as immobile. Just give me a moment, he begged of his brother through thoughts. This is dangerous, he thought to himself this time. All of us are vulnerable right now in different ways. I need a plan, and first thing's first. The safety of my brother.

It wasn't that Daniel didn't care for Teresa's safety, it was just that, Daniel, being the weaker and hidden one for all his life wanted to, repay, in a way his brother for being so kind and protective of him, and by believing that, it was an obligation for him to keep him from dying again. At this point, we can't see the opponent, Daniel figured. However, I still need to get Kenneth out without letting the enemy know our location. If I can sense his aura… Daniel peered to his brother, who was in a state of confusion. He looked around in desperation frantically, listening to the slight, tiny sounds the forest made and cooed, quickly glancing to the left, then right, to see if it had been the invisible, camouflaged ghostly opponent.

Emerald green eyes watched them, and slowly, their sight began to reverse properties. Black became white and white became black. Traces of a dark, enormous silhouette moved around slowly, as if sneaking on someone. Good! Daniel caught the presence of the rival. I can see it only a little, but it's the best I can do. Now for a plan…

Seconds later, an idea clicked in his head. Eyes glimmered in enlightenment despite the nonattendance of light. I got it! Daniel cried out with an invisible, soundless voice and immobile lips.

Back to Kenneth's watchful gaze, he kept his ears open and his eyes peeled. He had to take no chances whatsoever, or that could be the end of him. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, Kenneth admitted to himself as he stared nervously in every direction constantly and randomly. Suddenly, a chain burst from thin air, and seeing it in the corner of his eye, Kenneth dodged to the right, letting the chained dagger strike the body of another greedy, selfish tree. The chain rattled as its bond swung like jump rope, becoming limp as its action slowed and died. Taking hold of the chain's heavy link, Kenneth charged his Half Spirit. Mist began to work for him instead of against him and the rusted metal of the chain became cooler and cooler as his fingers wrapped tight around it, making sure not to let go. With ice, I'll let him reveal his own position by freezing his outline, Kenneth planned with a mean, icy stare and grin to match.

Suddenly, immense pain burst from the frosty chain and forced Kenneth's hand away from it. Spikes seemed to erupt from them, extending their length like crazed unicorn horns, stabbing into the palm of his hand. Kenneth cried out as he quickly drew back his hand, watching the bubbles of blood disperse into air unnaturally. No wound? Kenneth thought as he watched, interest piqued, at his uninjured hand. No cuts, no scrapes showed themselves. Not even a scratch was there to show its malice! It made no sense to Kenneth. He was sure he had felt a hell-stabbing pain just a second ago. What happened? "Naïve child," the invisible voice said as the chain drew itself back in into nothingness. "No matter how hard you try, you cannot beat my spiritual energy attacks. They are unstoppable."

"So you use internal damage other than external," Daniel said, revealing his presence out of nowhere, having the dumber claim. Wasn't it? Daniel rose from the bushes, as he gained a piece of information, an answer to one of his many questions. His crossed arms were careless as his emerald stare was narrowed in an unforgiving leer. His legs were straight as he stood, not caring for the vulnerability he gave off, catching the enemy's stare in actual invisibility.

"That's right," the voice came from all directions, no presence or body present to give it off. "You're pretty brave for coming out like that," the voice boomed again, godly.

"Daniel!" Kenneth cried out in a narrow, puzzled stare. What was he planning? Why did he just give away his location like that again? He can't be doing the same thing he did last time with that disk-shield girl, can he?

Daniel gave a cold, hard stare to Kenneth, and then peered to the aura only present to him. It was easily interpreted that his emerald stare meant "shut up." Crossed arms gripped themselves tighter meanly. Kenneth backed away, his lips sealed together, somewhat ashamed and somewhat mad, angry. "What's the matter?" he asked to the invisible aura in Kenneth's eyes. Kenneth wondered how he could see the apparition. "Aren't you going to attack me?" Daniel provoked. Kenneth was about to say something else, but another glare told him to shut his mouth.

A voice from all directions scoffed, as if amplified. "That'd be just a waste of energy, wouldn't it?" the voice asked, looking underneath the trick. Kenneth became more confused.

"So you figured it out," Daniel's voice came from another direction this time. The lips of the first one did not move and faded away into nothingness, this time, unlike the opponent, dusting itself away into uselessness instead of camouflage. The real Daniel rose from the opposite side of bushes, away from the first one. His pose was the same, arms crossed tensely and securely, legs straight as he stood, eyes narrowed to a somewhat similar shape to a triangle, green eyes stabbing to the mist, yet not piercing. "You can easily tell what's made of spiritual energy and what's not. However," Daniel began. "This battle ends. Now." An invisible, amused smile grew.


	81. Chapter 81

Bound chains of bamboo whirled through the calm, misty air. Confusion and unpredicted movements jumped all over like a liberated can of fleas looking for a new home to cuddle themselves into. The team of four teenagers was spread out now, thin, flexible beams of green chasing after them like wild ropes, lassoing against the vertical surface they made. Daggers were placed in their mouths, holding them in determination, blasting smoke against the roofed afternoon. Sounds of sharp, musical notes filled the area with a tone of death, commanding the landscape, the air, the ground – everything.

Sounds of metal pricks against wooden, tight bodies thudded against the astray midnight air. Soon, three of them found themselves trapped in a cage of thin green, up against differential surfaces that dug into their backs uncomfortably. Fingers of cane snapped around them, alive as they rattled threateningly against any movement of resistance. Zack's protests and angry cries of being locked in a grassy hold drowned the sounds of crawling mist and high pitched music. Damn, I got caught! Derek thought with tight ground teeth that showed themselves proudly. Narrowed eyes of handsome anger struggled with fair shoulders and biceps as the shroud of bamboo trembled with him, alive with certain anger. Misty fingers smothered his growing perspiration. His straight black hair did not even have the least bit comfort at this point.

Kawari, being the only one not caught rushed through the misty grounds. The freezing arctic coldness gripped his forelegs, as if begging him to stop, commanding him away from mobility. His legs did not follow, his arms continued to sway eagerly as his feet shuffled. The blue hair fluttered in angry, irritated mist as eyes narrowed towards the misty silhouette ahead. Bamboo burst from the cloud of periwinkle flake, thin, undernourished arms scrawny as their bones rattled unhealthily, eagerness of their own trying to overtake Kawari. Dodging each one skillfully, as if he had done it a million times, the blue-haired teenager stumbled once or twice as the limbs of green missed him by a long shot. The imprecise targeting continued, and the distance between the two sides diminished, slowly but surely.

His confident, rolled sleeves hung at his elbows as they followed their respective forearms, swaying through the mist, numbed with motivation. The flute's piercing cry seemed to come to an ear-piercing screech. It caused winced eyes in random places of the blinding mist. Kawari stumbled at the sudden feedback noise, and turned unfortunate. Just like they had planned, the scrawny ropes of bamboo got to him and slammed him against the body of a tree, as if trying to mix the two together. Kawari cried out from the force and pressure, the bamboo rattling as they stumbled as well from the impact. They held him surely, protruding, prickly blades stabbing into him and leaking out reddish pools. Coldness of metal was washed away with hot blood as Kawari was forced to a wince.

The bamboos linked to a cloud of baby blue mist, limbs that were forgotten to be eaten by a fearsome, loafing panda. The puffs of periwinkle demise brushed away, as if commanded to reveal against its will. The silhouette became a figure – more than a figure, more like a person, if you could call her that. Her eyes were slumped on her face like pale, white eggs. A drilled, miniscule hole of darkness was hired as her eye pupil, baldness against her cool skin, her disgusting, sickening skin. It discolored a grotesque green, layers upon layers of it like a hardened goblin, for she did not have skin – she donned empty, hollow bamboos. Skeletal fingers played a green, caned flute in a dance to the music it itself created. Her lips were like instruments – an empty trumpet ready to blow. Her thin, without muscle arms were undernourished, as if her nonexistent teeth had not chewed, bitten, or breathed in anything for years except air. "My bamboo is as hard as brick and bound by a strong material I myself make with this body," she spoke in a human voice that just didn't fit her, somehow continuing to play the flute as her lips moved to form words. "It can't be broken even if two gorillas pull on both ends. Meaning that you cannot break it even if you tried."

"Oh?" Kawari asked, interest piqued. He smiled, despite his several new wounds all over random places in his chest and abdominals. Pain was overrated at this point. His breathing became just a tiny bit heavier, barely noticeable. "Is that so?" he asked. The flute continued its threatening opera, a solo that never ended as long as the opponent willed it to be. "However, I have some tricks of my own," Kawari told confidently as he brought a weak hand to the limbs of seemingly weak bamboo. For a split second, the opponent could've sworn she saw a glow of silver silhouetting his fingers. Then, after that split second, the hand came down, and surprisingly enough – cut the bamboo limbs off! Oh, how wide the egg white eyes of the opponent stammered, how her heart skipped a beat and her lips skipping a note, forgetting it from her mind! Forced to take a gasp, the enemy was overwhelmed, not believing what she saw. How did he manage to do it? she thought as she continued blowing nervous breaths into her instrument.

The metal blades still stuck inside Kawari's body, limp limbs short and stubby hanging from their base and outside his body, the blue haired boy dropped to his feet and stumbled a bit. It was hard to adjust after a while. The blades seared pain every time he moved his feet. But it didn't matter to him; he would not let such a thing stop him. "I see," the bamboo girl preached. "So you're strong. How admirable," she began again, multitasking the flute all the while. "However, are you able to pose a challenge to someone like me?" Her musical notes intensified to off the charts, piercing to the ears, almost one-fifty decibels in measure.

Suddenly, from the ground beneath her feet emerged a thousand bamboo limbs, spiraling together like hungry snakes, a tornado of green whirling through the misty air, beating and twirling the periwinkle clouds like a vacuum. Blades were held inside, ready to kill as Kawari didn't seem to make a movement of resistance. The hurricane of green blew away the blue mist and gave sight of what was going on to Derek and his teammates spread out in the forest, still tied up. Derek gasped sharply and shortly as he saw the swirls of olive envelop his new teammate in a wormhole of jade. "Kawari!" Derek cried out in protest. The arms holding the black-haired boy threatened once more. I have to do something, Derek told himself. I can't just lay here and do nothing! I'm not like that!

_Show no emotion, _he remembered parental words. As if on cue, he calmed. Eyes narrowed as they hid away in secretion under tanned eyelids.

"Be quiet!" the feminine, unnatural voice of the enemy demanded. The bamboo tightened around him, as if choking his body away from all air. Derek's face did not react, pretending as if nothing were happening. The enemy scoffed. "Trying to act tough," she commented.

The coffin of plant suddenly rumbled, taking the opponent's attention away from the seventeen year old black haired boy and towards the blue haired one. The limbs of green rumbled uneasily, as if they were about to burst. They shuffled, as if ready to hurl, a loud confusion from within, something inside it just too eager to escape the dark green prison. With a blistering cry and intense energy cylinder after cylinder of the swirling plants flew through the air, now limp and powerless. Only when they were combined did they pose a threat. The flying canisters of nature revealed the angry face of Kawari and the slit wounds on his body. Wasting no time, Kawari's arm suddenly grew ten times larger – not in width, but in length ten times over in the downpour of the color lime, clattering sounds all around. He grew fifteen elbows, one could swear, and fifteen more biceps. The long, snake-like arm rushed through the mist and felt its coolness all over its impressive length, wowing faces all over. The palm was open in plead, targeting the bamboo female. The long distance enemy jumped away just in time to dodge it, forced to stop her chorus of glorious screeches. "You're not fast enough to defeat me."

Derek watched with confident eyes, slowly fading into the background, replacing no one as a prisoner of the bamboo straps, leaving them behind as he sunk into the tree's body eerily. The bamboo wondered where he had suddenly gone, curious and dumbfounded. The enemy noticed immediately with certain automaticity. Her stare widened and returned to Kawari, who pulled the blades out of his body eagerly and weakly. He cried out as each one came out, as if ripping off a band-aid, but instead, making uses for new ones. His heavy breathing became heavier after each one, as if they aided him in his suffocation. "No matter," the enemy spoke, referring to Derek's sudden absence. "I'll end this now."

"I won't let you!" Kawari objected. His arm grew ten times larger again and soared through the air, tightening around her body. She didn't care. If she was to avoid it she would have to stop playing the flute, and at this rate, she couldn't risk it. The mist grew thicker and thicker, innocent periwinkles churning into hellish purples. Bamboo soared from the air and tightly snaked around Kawari's other, weaker arm. He couldn't break it right now. He had to focus on breaking her. Damn, it's harder than I thought, she thought as the grip was about to strengthen around her. The hand was huge now, wrapped around her entire body. Got to get away… she tried to take a step back, but something was stopping her. It seemed like her feet had been glued to the floor as she felt her toes and such sink downward to the floor, as if the ground turned to quicksand, calling her caution and panic outward from within her. In reality, outlines of black surrounded her feet and dragged her in, a sign of another type of quicksand called by Derek. I can't move! What the hell did that boy do!?

The enlarged fingernails cracker into her back, sediments of green and yellow falling to the floor. There was no pain, just danger. Damn it, I'll get crushed! I have to kill him, now! More cracking took place. Sediments fell helplessly due to the evilness of gravity. Oh, how it begged to disagree with humanity ever second of its eternal life! Pressure built. Tension rose. And then finally, finally… gasps and cries echoed.

Both sides broke down completely, the snaking bamboo around Kawari bent his arm horridly, breaking his wrist as well as he gave a cry of immense pain, the sound of bone cracking sickeningly inside his mind. His arm pressurized as well, and killed the bamboo girl, crushing her into many, many pieces in a drumlin on the ground. The lasso of green fell limp to the floor, powerless now, and Kawari dropped to his knees. The mist cleared and the bamboo cages lifted. Dylan was released and so was Zack. The flute stopped, the innocent instrument lying by the pile of faded life, wishing for those same pairs of lips to kiss it once more, to blow into it passionately and make beautiful music with it. Oh, how it lusted for another pair of lips.

"Kawari-san!" Dylan cried innocently and childishly. The only thing he cared for was kindness, and there was a deeper reason behind it that you could imagine, too. "Are you okay?" he asked with worried, overprotective eyes that glimmered in its royal greenness, looking nauseously at the arm bent horridly and unnaturally, an alien limb that just didn't seem to belong.

"It's okay," Kawari insisted, wincing in pain as he got up to his feet. Derek rose from the ground in a dark outline, looking all calm and cool. He sighed as the sun returned and exposed itself, killing off the rival mist into forgotten wisps of an unwanted, unneeded memory. He cried out in pain once more as he was about to fall to his knees again.

"But your arm…" Dylan wouldn't give up. "It's bent." The green-eyed boy just wouldn't stop.

"I said its okay!" Kawari demanded a bit too meanly. Dylan slumped, shocked as he brought his eyes to the floor apologetically, ashamed. Zack came over and put an arm on Dylan's shoulder, a sympathetic look painted over his face. Dylan forced a smile back.

"Kawari…" he muttered sadly to himself. The sun regained its hot warmness and began to become lazy once more, forcing the people below to carry it on their shoulders. Perspiration became warm once again.

"We shouldn't linger around," Derek said, totally disregarding the broken arm of Kawari. "Be prepared if another enemy comes." Derek took a second's glance at the pile of crusted and crushed sediments. It was hard to believe that such a thing used to be _alive_. That guy's instinct to kill…Derek thought, sighing as he brought his eyes away. Was he unable to look at it any longer, or was he just tired of watching an idle pyramid of a dusted memory?

Kawari brought his other arm to its normal length and put it on his bicep. It hurt to even touch it – that was easy to figure out by his indistinctive cries of pain. A light glow like a tiny sun emitted from the slits between fingers as he fingered his skin down to his elbow, and then his wrist. The glow of white was eerie yet hopeful, like an angel's pure and holy smile, the faint glow of its innocent, sinless halo. Bones cracked as they repaired themselves within his arm, the sound of calcium piercing to the warming air. The midnight cold had found its way back on the other side of the world – where it belonged. Now, it was the sun's job to bring back the warmth to the land, before all plant life died and withered away into nothingness due to the intense, crescent cold that sliced crops like a grim reaper's bloodstained scythe. His arm twisted back into normality, the naturalness returning to it slowly but surely as the light's slight, holy hum intensified.

"Kawari!" Derek called out, putting a mean frown on his face.

"It's okay," Kawari insisted. "I can heal," he informed them. He relieved worries with that one sentence.

Heal? Dylan begged to differ. Something was fishy. Not even the highest level of healing can repair a broken bone, Dylan thought. I should know…

That glow… Derek thought as he watched the fingers delicately run down the blue haired boy's arm. He didn't finish the thought in his mind, but instead, brought a hand to his bandaged chest, feeling the black fabric and bringing back memories of living hell.

PoVS

The sun was hot on everyone's shoulders. The clouds did not seem to desire movement. They hung in the air, high above and safe, watching the scene as it slowly progressed. The puffy, white audience wanted to enjoy this with a bag of yellow puffs – a bag of popcorn. The sun made angry complaints of golden, hot rays as the plump, obese and untaxed customers covered its distant sight. "What's wrong?" the discolored grey opponent asked. A blank smirk grew on his lips. He twirled the axe of love between his fingers like an Asian girl did with a mechanical pencil, but much more skillfully. "Are you waiting for me to attack so that you can observe me fight?" he asked about the suspense that kept the audience waiting. It was obvious that this one was the cloud pleaser, working with the audience to please them. A good skill for his resume indeed.

"No," Walter said bluntly and carelessly. He had no intentions of fooling around in this fight. "I'm just thinking of what a waste of a challenge you could be," Walter half-lied. Narrowed eyes grew on both sides as they shifted their feet in preparation.

The enemy scoffed. "You'll be the first to help me pay my debt of pain," he said confusedly. "I've been selfish and received too much of it. Now, it's my turn to give some back," he explained. Things suddenly became a bit clearer. However, curiosity pushed it onward. Walter seemed to scoff away his words, claiming it meaningless.

Suddenly, Eric jumped from the heads of trees invisibly, floating in the air and defying gravity. He smiled confidently as he brought his fingers, as if he were about to snap them in applause to a very, very bad poet, being the only one in the audience. The one man crowd snapped his fingers intensively, one for good luck. A burst of flames came out in a red-orange burst like a torrential rush of fruit punch. The sweet soda pop ruptured at the ground, blistering flames emitting like grounded clouds with the lowest dew point imaginable. The huge screams of blazing fire enveloped the enemy, who did not seem to make an effort to get away as the flames neared. He could've dodged it, but he didn't. Why?

Flames cackled evilly. Eric remained in the air, waiting as he watched the hot redness spill onto his face, cracking, enlarged embers shining in his eyes. His dark features watched tensely, waiting for the final reaction. Hot, bursting flames lit up Walter's face as well. He could almost feel the burning hisses on top of his face, covering him like an invisible mask, a pointless tool. The fire slowly burned away into flaming wisps and then finally, hot, white and brown smoke. The hissing clouds rose up in the air; more opposites reminding Eric that they just wanted someone to listen to – someone to guide them. Then, suddenly, a sign of vengeance, the axe of love screeched outward in a whirl of ironic hate. The swirling axe acted like a shrieking disk as it sliced upward, catching Eric in midair. The Fire and Water Minors gasped sharply, taking in surprised breaths. Then, from the trees rustled another sound once more.

A mouth breathed in a confident deep air. Then, churning it spit it out in the form of rock – a lengthy, impressive pillar of rock. The shooting missile of brown earth caught the slicing axe at the middle of its body. Any normal person would have believed that after such a hit of such high potential, the axe would have knocked it over. However, it hadn't. The axe continued to spin like a crazy roulette machine, screeching sparks of friction flying outward as the rocky exterior tried hard to hit more against it. It was an equal fight, but at least it stopped the axe's direction of attacking Eric. Sounds of scissors seemed to fill the afternoon air.

Gravity finally getting to him, Eric jumped onto the rocky body of the pillar, giving Mark his gratitude to his position inside the trees, waiting. Then, with confidence and energy, Eric jumped off, and flipped in the air as he landed on Walter's side. The smoke was still pouring aimlessly into the sky as the jump made a heavy clatter against Eric's shoes. "He's not dead yet," Walter told him.

"Yeah," Eric agreed. They both did not even glance at each other as they exchanged words for seconds. They just stared at the cackling, evil laughs of the burning flames, as if they were made by an old, goblin-green witch with the slanted, pointy hat as she brewed a frothy mixture inside a pitch-black cauldron, white smoke of eeriness pouring out like a mist waiting to explode.

"I'm not done yet!" Mark jumped from the trees and into the air, just like Eric had. Eric gasped. He came out too quickly! He should've thought more before he did that! Eric thought in despair, thinking of what might happen as the white smoke cleared, giving sight to a dark silhouette against the ironic mushroom smoke. It was too late now. Any plans that could've been made were no use now. Nothing could reverse time.

The axe flew back from the rock pillar as the stony column deteriorated, breaking into rocky fragments and falling to the floor like a five second rain. White smoke hissed hotly against Mark's all ready sweaty and hot cheeks. Controlling mud and dirt, Mark made curvy sections of them whirl around the inner area behind the smoke, whizzing around like crazy cars on the street just waiting for an accident. They rushed drunkenly, hitting random places and causing more smoke to pile up, more gray smoke that would get lost again.

Just as soon as the mud waves calmed, the love axe burst out from the brownness once again, carrying some caked mush on its blade. It whizzed its own speed through the air, and Mark knew he had to defend himself. No earth pillar would come from the foresting trees again. Bringing his arms to his face, crossing them protectively, Mark began to emit a rocky armor, an exterior that would guard him – hopefully.

Skin turned to stone temporarily, his whole body and clothes becoming solid and discolored. The waves of wind used to flutter his clothes, but now, they were shielded and knocked away by them. Grayness in the sky fell straight down with immense kinetic and potential energy, just waiting for the axe to come to it. And the axe did, gladly following command.

The axe and Minor met, and the handle of the whirling one luckily hit him on the back of his neck as the whizzing disk bypassed him, still swirling into the air. It had got it directly. It was the weak spot of the armor, and the rocky layer soon peeled off into stone hail. Pellets fell like dropped pebbles, useless ones heavens didn't need and commanded their angels to drop them off for them – with gratitude, of course. Then, as soon as the armor fell all away, the color came back to Mark's body, and his eyes, being closed and unnoticing, showed his unconsciousness, and replaced it with extreme alert in Eric and Walter's eyes. He slowly plummeted down, his body just waiting for its… death? It was all up to the enemy now, and with his thirst for paying off his debt of pain, what would any regular person think he would do?


	82. Chapter 82

A thick tension filled the air, a replacement of a heartbeat a million times over. The sun intensified tenfold as the audience of clouds gasped, their mouths hanging wide open in disbelief. Invisible and unheard cheers and boos were filling the nonexistent stadium. Applause of silence screamed through the empty crowd. Trees shook their heads, greenish strands of hair rustling thickly; some whistling a strong wind, as if a blow dryer. Mark continued to fall downward, eyes now unable to open up, as if they had been eaten away and he did not want to show the hideousness of their outer shell.

Nooks and crannies of a stone muffin fell with him, sprinkled over his aura like sprinkles on a vanilla ice cream, swirled roller coasters of thickness wrapped around it, a netted cone of sugar. Wind resistance was not good enough to stop time. Eric and Walter knew they couldn't do anything, and Eric, being the one who was more eager, flailed his arms upward, as if trying to catch him from such a distance. If only wishes ever came true.

The opponent smiled as he waited for the brown-hair boy in the sky to plummet closer to him. His gray cheeks pushed themselves backwards to make room for his grinning evil. Swinging the axe as he found Mark's body inches away from him, it gave a horrid crack through the air, light puffs of gray dust and smoke still taking their tolerant time to fade away. "Mark!" Eric cried out his teammate's name. Another arm went up in the air, as if participation in a classroom. Eyes with an eager answer broadened helplessly. A mouth hung itself open, wanting, waiting for its inner tongue to speak the solution; the unhesitant response.

Luckily, Mark's head was hit with the back of the axe, the wooden spine of it. Even so, it gave a disgusting, sickening crack through the forest as the axe flung his body all the way to the left. Eric's eyes were hot on the rolling body as it stopped by the sunken feet of trees. It dragged dust along, like a sushi roller, preparing a delectable Asian meal on its own cost. The meal was uncompleted; a California roll of dust and unsatisfying air, unagi of leafy eels and dusted, splintering seaweed, thick and too dry for use. "Don't worry," a rasped voice of the enemy spoke. The only speaking sound caught Eric's attention immediately, switching his shocked expression into an angry, grudged one. Fists tightened angrily; eyes narrowed in hate. Teeth began to clench and grind unhealthily. You could swear there were sparks coming from the friction. Walter was amazed at how Eric reacted, his eyes blank as he stared at trembling limbs of his teammate. "I won't kill him just yet. It won't be of any use to kill someone who's not noticing," the voice continued as the naked feet crept closer. Walter shifted in tardy preparedness. Creepy, murderous eyes stared to the limp, swayed body of the Earth Minor. Eyes continued to remain closed in embarrassment. Lips tightly kissed each other, a passion never ending, the only ones they could have affection for. "No debt would be paid if he didn't feel pain. Then, it'd just be a stupid thing to kill like that," the freak of nature explained. He _was_ a freak of nature… wasn't he?

Fists trembled uncontrollably. They were eager to do something, too eager for safety. Eyes lay helplessly on the floor; a shaded forehead stopped facial expressions, excluding a quivering pair of lips. "Debt?" Eric asked through a shaking tongue, nervous with hate, an indescribable feeling of intense revenge. "Debt!?" he screamed louder in repetition. Walter watched with awe. There were no thoughts. "What debt!?" Eric demanded, picking up his head and revealing his dark, hard-working eyes. They burned with an angry passion of detestation, teeth proudly showing themselves in a ground bliss that was blistered and scraped until it became abhorrence. The enemy seemed amused. Walter's blank expressions filled with more awe.

"You wouldn't understand," the enemy explained easily. His voice flowed smoothly despite the croaky, frog-like contents of it. Unwashed teeth smiled a sickening, cragged, yellow and moldy grin. "Don't act like you do. Understand?" the opponent asked, walking out of the leftover wisps of dust. His bare feet were hot against the blazing summer ground.

"No…" Eric denied. His trembling became a seizure of a shake. He bit his bottom lip to add pain to the intense feelings. He could just punch that guy right now – he definitely had the motivation to, and for some reason, for Eric only, when he had the motivation, he could do anything. You'd be surprised. "You're the one," Eric accused with anger in a roaring tone. "You're the one that doesn't understand!" he screamed, adding head and hand motions to his intense rage and irritation.

The opponent scoffed as he scraped his feet closer. Friction and dust sounded through the open field in the forest. It was like a stadium surrounded by walls of watchful trees. Heads continued to sway in the wind, hair fluttering uncontrollably, some even bald at this point, missing their large afro of green leaves. "You don't know what it's like to be taken away from your family, the ones you love," the opponent said seriously, narrowing his eyes hatefully. "Who do you think you are? You don't know what it's like to become something you never expected to become!"

"We don't understand…?" Walter repeated, his fists now clenched as well, his teeth ground tightly in unison with Eric. Eric noticed his actions, and felt a bit better now that he wasn't the only one doing this. Walter's voice was calm, ready to burst out in his own anger like Eric any moment. Trembling fists began their own seizure with no blood of vomit to give, luckily. Fingers hugged themselves as they experienced their first earthquake that the rest of the body didn't feel. Why were they always the ones to be picked on? They cried tears of red as their heads dug deep into the surface, wanting to hide themselves. "We understand as much as you do!" Walter screamed out, letting out his scream as well. Eric had competition now. He smiled at the fact, only a light, tiny smirk left unnoticed and alone – the way it wanted to be as it lived its solitary paradise. "You don't know shit!" Walter screamed angrily. Now Eric felt that Walter was taking it a bit too extreme. "How would you like it… if the ones you loved hated you!? Huh!?" he demanded in irritation. "And they were the only ones _to_ care about!?" Walter scoffed. "We have our own roads, and if they shall interfere, you'll be the one to die!"

Dark, demon eyes became grudging slits. Another pair of hands dug their fingers into their palms, a suicide from hate of the world. Scoffs came from the antagonist side. "We both have the same purpose," Walter told him. "Revenge." Eric's interest piqued.

"Revenge?" the enemy spoke creakily, as if an ancient door unbothered for years, wise with overgrown sides, dusty panels.

"However, there is one big difference between you and me," Walter went on, shifting his weight and fixing his stance. His right foot slid and went behind the left one. His fists loosened their clenching and tightened again into ready, prepared fists of combat. Confidence poured into them, mixing with the vein's cargo of blood as he gave a light smirk of preparation. The enemy seemed piqued as to what Walter would say next. He seemed also prepared to mock back. "I have the power and will to avenge myself. You, however, do not," Walter blurted out intentionally.

"What did you say?!" the enemy screeched out hatefully, as if surprised. "How dare you!?"

"Enough," Walter concluded, disregarding the opponent's wasteful words. "No more talking. Come!" he demanded quickly. The enemy seemed somewhat pleased, and somewhat angry.

The enemy sneered in a hateful deride as he swung his axe of love forward, a sound of scissors slicing the air. Trailing a long track of dust, the axe's spinning emerged from the dust, and zigzagged for Walter. "Pressure – a hundred percent!" Walter cried out as the Water Minor let out a string of pressurized water bullets. They torpedoed through the air like easily birds, gliding across invisibly and skillfully, as if done a million times. The axe dodged skillfully, as if having a mind of its own. Walter sneered as he got back on his feet.

Taking a deep yet short breath, Eric spit out a red slice of flame from his lips. It hissed as it was flung through the air, flat like a net, zooming like a fallen star. The shooting star made direct impact and spread hot steam over the axe. However, as if an eager confidence, the axe flung out of the steam, streaming in the air in determination. The fire had no effect on it at all. Maybe, just maybe it heated it up a little, but that fact was changed seconds after. "What the hell?" Eric called out in surprise. How can that be possible? Eric thought.

"Damn it, I don't have time for this!" Walter cried angrily as he ran straight for the swinging axe, picking up speed dramatically as if he were the Flash. He disappointed fans a second later.

"Walter!" Eric cried out helplessly, not knowing what to do again as he watched the Water Minor shout angrily as he charged for the axe.

Ducking a second before impact, Walter dodged the axe and let it swing past him, making a hard slit against the body of a wounded tree. Its voice rustled through leaves at the sudden pain. Wind pressed against the leaves of its shadow. The tree would demand an unpaid refund. Still running, Walter halted himself to a stop. "Suihangan!" he called out as more bullets shot out from his back. The clear innocence of the water was faked through appearance. The pressure of the tiny, dangerous dots intentionally crashed into the ground between Walter and the waiting opponent. Intense dust spilled into the air quickly, a fog rising from nowhere, a spilt glass of discolored milk with no gravitation pulls to bring it down, spitting it out confidently and happily on top of an absence of upholstery and table covers. Piqued interests rose. Eric decided not to interfere and just watch for an opportunity to help without messing up Walter's untold plan.

The dust crept everywhere, inches away from the enemy as Walter suddenly popped out like a cannonball from a pirate ship, carrying a stream of smoke behind it. He gave an angry cry as he caught the opponent off guard at his throat, slamming him into a reluctant body of a tree. Its head shook in objection, a scornful smack given by a gust of wind right after. The rustling stopped. Walter pressed his throat against the thick bark as he gave a threatening look with ground teeth of hate. The enemy winced, a deviant eye watching Walter's face closely, as if begging for another chance, all the while, not really. "Spit it out," Walter demanded before throttling him. "Why are you after _us_ specifically? We have nothing of relevance that you need, or want, for that matter," Walter pointed out.

The enemy scoffed, despite his position in the matter. "For one and only one purpose," the enemy spoke through a choked voice. He didn't care for his voice, either, as if he knew Walter really didn't have the guts to kill him. However, if he really thought that, he would be wrong. Horridly _wrong._ "You are humans born and raised in a normal society, correct?"

Walter said nothing. That guess was completely wrong. If only he knew, Walter thought through narrowed and hateful eyes. Fingers clenched the crusty, sickly throat tighter. The enemy derided. "Therefore, you are not capable of understanding true pain," the rival spoke without sense.

"What?" Walter asked in anger. Just hearing those words being spoken to him didn't make sense. How would he know? I don't know pain!? Walter's odium fingers threatened even more. They were so close to his Adam's apple now, the palm pressing against it like crushing a rock. The enemy strained a tiny bit, all the while noticed with a Water Minor's smirk of satisfaction. Satisfaction wasn't enough in this greedy world.

"Just as I thought," the enemy spoke naively. "Humans misjudge things all the time for what things really are," the discolored one spoke through strangled, weak, daring lips. Fingerprints tightened, if possible. "It is easy to say that they jump to conclusions. Take for example, my two axes." Eric watched the love axe for example, half its face glimmering guiltily in the sunlight, a fake innocence, bathing in the sunlight of leisure as it blade smiled evilly, just as evilly as its owner. The challenger held the hate axe in his hand, where it had been from the start. This one bathed in the innocent shadows, not the least bit innocent. "Together, they look the same, but in reality, they are labeled hate and love. Why must we judge these things so much with our greedy, selfish hands? We have even confused two of the simplest things in the world," the adversary spoke, peering once at the love axe, then to the hate axe. They were immobile at the moment, waiting for command.

Eric looked down, as if realizing something. Brown eyes peered to the even ground as if fishing for answers in the thick, brown sea of no fish and fossils. Bait was useless. "That's why I don't die," the enemy began again. Walter scoffed inside his head. He didn't really feel like spitting all over the adversary's face and disgusting the matter even further. "That's why I'll stay alive until I see with my own eyes the pain dealt to the world that the world has dealt to me in the past!" Walter really felt like he could choke the guy to death right now. The two hid in the shadow of an innocent tree, the sun unable to reach or see them, a disappointed customer.

It's only fair, after all, the antagonist thought in his mind as he waited the hateful fingers around his throat to loosen. After loving him as a brother most of my life… he went ahead and did something so controversy to our connection like that…he thought sadly. He imagined his brother's childhood face. Being only one year older, he had the looks of a girl, a long brown set of hair in front of him like a rope of rescue, ironic to what he did to this one. His eyes were innocent and fun-loving, a decay of his actual innocence when it all began – an innocence that made a lawyer gullible. My love for him turned out to be nothing but hate, he realized.

"You're wrong," Eric's voice eavesdropped suddenly. Walter's eyes stretched in their sockets as he turned his head away for a second to peer at his teammate. His face was all serious, locked in a tight grind of hate. "We don't confuse love and hate. We do understand pain. I know what love is. It's when you care for someone… and I know what hate is too, probably even better than you do. These two things are easily distinguished!" Eric declared.

Turning back to Walter and Walter turning back to him, the enemy began to reply. "That may be true," he said in his stressed position. His voice carried no admittableness. "However, something like that does not pay my debt!" he went back to his first purpose, angering Walter. Before he could do anything, the enemy commanded the love axe to swing forward. With obedience, it began to spin wildly through the air again and slice dust. It approached Walter, and he had to get away. There was no time for throttling. Water bullets pulsed from Walter's back and the first one missed, dodged. The second one made a direct hit, though, and stalled the path of it. Walter dodged, at the right second, only to have the enemy free of strangulation and catching the axe in his commanding, officious hand.

Walter jumped many feet away, cautioning himself. His sandals made a hateful scraping against the dirt and dust surface. With a swing of readiness, the opponent let go of his love axe once more and let it swing wildly through the air. The disking axe approached Walter eagerly. It trailed against the ground like a yo-yo, and Walter, being the quick and talented one, dodged away. He jumped high in the sky and fell back to Eric's side. The yo-yo of an axe was drawn back in to the clearing dust. The enemy was now comfortable on his own feet and peeled himself off the unhappy tree of decomposing happiness. His stumbled, weak steps approached them only by a few inches.

He has a purpose as well, Eric thought, readying his feet in preparation and caution.

However, ours interfere with his, Walter thought as he clenched his fists, bringing them together close to his face in meticulousness. He stationed his legs and feet just like Eric, thinking the same thing as he. In that case, I'll kill him.

In order to protect the ones I care about, I must live. In order to live, I have to beat this guy. I have to stop him, no matter what the cost. If I die, hopefully, I'll be the only one, being able to protect the ones around me. Eric stationed himself better.

PoVS

Marissa's piercing voice screamed through the lake. One could swear that it caused ripples. The Sound Minor stared in horror as the blood leaked out in a long scar across a chest, a chopping hand in the air making the long cut, nails beastly. A long, psychotic smile went with broadened eyes of the opponent, half his body still in water. His mermaid-like body splashed the water as the top part of his body was discolored eerily into a periwinkle-like gray. A satisfied grin watched the drops of blood swim out like weak, no pressure bullets.

Rick fell to the floor beside the enemy as the adversary swam back into the water, the ripples slowly calming. His arms lay at his side, lost purpose of protection behind his closed eyes as an elongated cut across his body showed it, pouring out blood like a horrid faucet of fear. He was unconscious now. Marissa eyes shuddered in their sockets in blank horror, body petrificant. A delicate hand covered her mouth, hauling her churned stomach of nausea.

"Damn it!" Lance cried to Marissa as he stood at the side of the like, carefully watching the lake in the corner of his eye. "I told you to stay back!"

"I'll take care of him," Marissa volunteered, sickly carrying his body with unsteady feet to a faraway place from the lake by the empty, bald trees. Lance sighed in somewhat satisfaction.

This isn't good, he thought. I'm getting too stressed. This week has been hell. I'm not myself – yelling in anger. I'm not even as calm as I am usually. He scanned the waters carefully, using his great eye for detail.

Rick… Marissa thought as she stared at his blank, emotionless face. Why? Why did you jump in front of the attack? She thought as she took out bandages and other equipment from the sack the Council had provided them with six days ago. She quickly began to treat the wounds the best she could with trembling hands, the sight of the wound and his condition sickening. I've never seen you so torn up… Marissa thought. No, actually… I have, she admitted.


	83. Chapter 83

Calm down, Lance begged of himself. His body was in need of guidance, his mind panicky yet knowing that it was the only thing available to give command. Dazzled, indistinctive demands blurted uncontrollably from stress and tediousness from Lance's brain, confusing the body further. Sunlight began to be confused for hurricanes; trees began to fuse with moons. Hot became cold and light churned to dark. Senses were lost, dropped from the clumsy bag. Calm down, calm down! Lance continued to command. Use your eye for detail…

With shaken, dazed hands, the trembling silver bow and arrow reflected darkness as it rose with unstableness. The pike finger held in the instrument's prowess rattled like an infant's toy. It, too, was chattering from nervousness, an anxiety never thought to exist. "You're not special…!" a fiend's raspy voice sounded from underwater as it randomly swam through the calm, murky sea of confusion.

Lance stayed alert, scared, wondering if he would get slashed up like Rick. Think, Lance, think! Calm down! He scorned himself. No, there was no time to calm. Only time for actions – and if that was the case, then actions would take place. Timing it incorrectly and wastefully, the silver fingers launched the arrow, the spinning prowess sinking into the deep green, sickening waters. It drilled a microscopic whirlpool of slicing whorls, an eye of the immobile olive opening with awake; eating at the cool, once anxious metal. Chewed up, the splicing eye returned to a calm sleep. There was no way Lance could've gotten that hit correct. A loud burst of laughter came from a direction beneath the surface. "You missed! That's why people less special like you have no use in the world!" the voice seemed to come from the crashing, hateful waves.

Full of grudge and wrath, Lance launched a second arrow quickly, this time more precise, more fixed, more expertly. The intense whirling of the arrow's head would dazzle anyone put under it, a swirling whirlwind of confusion piercing the water like a rice paper defense. The rotating, rolling silver body was connected by a limp, silver string bound to the bone, as if this Minor was going fishing. A scream was given from beneath the water from the distance. The horrid cry for help conceived a pool of red-green mixture on the olive surface. Reeling the silver string back into him, hearing the loud scuffling wires roll back in like a mechanical lasso of the west, Lance felt the heavy weight be carried in with it. He had caught a fish! And this one was big, too! He took a gasp of victorious relief as the enemy was brought to the surface, a metallic arrow glimmering in the sunlight struck through his heart. The sign of the cupid's arrow and love would never be thought of the same way again. Blank, accusing eyes stared up at Lance as the silver-haired boy dropped to the floor, plopping to the ground. His legs were weak, as if he had run miles and miles, finally attaining the taste of victory.

His choked voice through raspier, wet lips was a red liquid fount, a fount of life that painted his chin red. "How did you… someone that was not special…" The enemy asked seconds before his death. The dark, demonic green waves acted as a shroud for the approaching corpse, ready to drown and overkill the body of soulless eyes, to throttle a voiceless throat.

Taking deep breaths of release, Lance answered. "You gave away your locations with your mocking voices," Lance breathed out unsteadily. He had won the fight, so easily too, however, the fear had not washed away. I can't be scared like this all the time. I have to get used to this kind of stuff, Lance scorned. "Idiot," Lance ridiculed as the accusations of eyes withered away and sunk below, carrying the arrow with the body. Lance's arm formed and hissed and churned into its normal condition as he disconnected the wire from his fingers, taking one last exhale of long-awaited relaxation.

His normal, steady voice returning, Lance called out. "Marissa," he cried weakly. His hands support him on the ground. Marissa quickly turned, as if somewhat had caught her doing something she shouldn't have been doing. Her voice was empty as her lips' gates opened showing nothing but empty treasure, nonexistent gold, nothing of piquing interest. Eyes broadened in surprise as dryness entered her breath. Her body froze, nerves broken everywhere as her fingers carried the medicine used to treat Rick. This was her way of asking, "What?"

"Do you need help?" Lance asked voluntarily. His breathing was still somewhat broken and heavy. It took a while to bring it back to normality. His eyes closed in wanted rest, but he knew he couldn't rest. There were still things he had to take care of.

Marissa stammered uneasily, as if to fall over. "Why are you so timid all of a sudden?" Lance asked. "Loser," he mocked playfully. Marissa knew somehow that he was just joking, but her face looked hurt. She got up to her feet without thinking, her mind absent at the moment, out to lunch. She brought praying hands to her face, masking her humiliation and ran off into the trees, her golden hair swinging at her side as she ran off, realizing just how useless she was. Lance put a confused feature on his face, sighing helplessly.

Rick… Marissa thought as she ran off past the trees, the thin, dreadful bodies seeming to run past her in an unwanted feeling towards her. Thin, stretched fingers tickled the breezes that huddled past, amusingly exciting themselves, keeping their hands busy, their feet rooted to the ground in imprisonment disallowing them to move. Why am I so useless? She cried in her thoughts and into her sifting fingers. Knives of grass crunched under her sore, cold feet, as if vegetables crunched by a resistant, yet hungry baby. Their bodies were left unbent and uncared for, a trail of death Marissa left behind, a trail that seemed just too real in reality.

PoVS

Swinging from tree to tree, Daniel scanned the wide area of which the team fought in. His eyes moved left to right like an emerald volleyball being passed across the net between two skilled teams, a wrecking ball of walls to the eyes. Stopping as he brought a hand to the shoulder of a tree, Daniel put his feet on its uncaring body. The wood was damp in his fingers, a disgusting wetness molding and caking his whorled fingerprints. Teeth ground tightly, he thought. This guy's good. He can't be hit with physical attacks and on top of that, I can barely sense his aura anymore. Skilled and thoughtful perspiration fell from the redhead's tired temples. No time for rest. No time to fool around. Everything was serious – all the time. Even outside the Swamp of Mystery – everywhere and I mean everywhere!

"Got you!" a booming, godly yet ungodly voice screeched through the trees, bringing trees to their powerless knees. Limbs rustled uneasily as they praised the powerful apparition's presence. Heads tried to bow but determined spines disallowed it, causing further anger in the shrieking voice. Rattling, dreadful chains brought out the deep panic of Daniel's emotions as they torpedoed through the air, slicing them hatefully and powerfully, claiming power of it.

They targeted Kenneth, and the blue haired boy turned around too late. The shocked eyes did not freeze time like they wish they did. Oh, how this boy could freeze a ton of things, but time and life and fate remained hot, remained resistant to everything they went up against. Nor would they ever boil to a melt. "Kenneth!" Daniel cried out protectively. He had totally forgotten about his brother, and he would scold himself for that mistake afterwards. Would there be even be an afterwards? The icy-eyed Minor's feet stood frozen, ironically. His power would now be his downfall.

It would be too wasteful if he tried to go after it now. The two brothers were much too far away. Daniel had to use the last resort and be hopeful. Soul spheres shot from his back, leaving a ghastly trail of holy white. The orbs knocked the bound chained daggers and rendered them limp at a tree's knees. Slowly, they drew back into the camouflaged figure of the enemy. Daniel sighed in relief and returning comfort. "That was close," he muttered to himself.

It's him… Teresa thought, crumbled into a compacted ball at a tree's forelegs, the woody skin barely supporting her trembling layers. Teeth chattered, not only from the cold numbness, but from fearful memories of hell. It's him… he's back… Her arms wrapped tightly for lost traces warmth in her legs. Eyes wanted to close but found no energy to. They chiseled at the arctic ice around them, shuddering unsightly.

Chains rattled from invisibleness, screeching outwards into the mist. It caught Kenneth at his feet, and swung him around as if he were on the actual wheel of fortune. The chains bound him by his feet and he screamed, screamed horribly as his body was thrown against an army of trees, their heads rustling in shock and pain. "Kenneth!" Daniel called out. The redhead jumped from his place on the woody, damp tree as he rushed through the mist, feeling the tickling fingers of no privacy search him everywhere. His shuffling feet ignored the greedy, tempting fingers that tried to bring him in; beckon him into dark seduction. He picked up his glasses as his brother seemed farther and farther away at a tree's base. The mist seemed to create distance despite the frantic, needy running. Perspiration was flung away into the cold, freezing air as he ran, like tears of his skin that were shed for the unwanted droplets of eyes – a fake replacement.

Chains pierced the air once more and got Daniel at his bicep, slicing a cut on his arm. He cried out in despair, wincing as his pace stopped, feeling the chafing metal scrape against his wound, irritating it with further pain and fear. He screamed out a cold scream, unheard in the forest of hell. All protection was lost as he dropped to his knees, spitting out a shocked puddle of blood. He coughed as he screamed more and more, a broken record.

Teresa heard those screams. Somehow – someway, she heard them. The cries of hell, the cries of a darkness world. The cries of despair from far, far away inside her hypnotized trance. And those screams of her teammate churned. They churned and changed themselves into screams of a faraway memory. A hellish cry becoming another hellish cry; an activation of a pointless change. Scream after scream bulleted past her mind, and brought forth cries of her past, instead of her present. Horribly distorted, Daniel's screams of pain pulled out recollection after recollection easily, like fun-loving fingers quickly picking out nicely folded names from a wacky, purple hat as quickly as possible, a greedy child's hand searching through cereal boxes for their individual prizes, sugar coated fingers and palms staunching and scenting the air afterwards.

Crazily distorted and transformed, the memories began to play like an old, photographic video, a movie of an unwanted past:

_Screams echoed underway from the cemented white walls. Dead lights flickered, as if trying to regain the hope and happiness the city had lost. Flicker once. Flicker twice. Flicker three times, until finally, it flickered none. The yellow, full moon gasped in horror, cratered mouths opening in fear as it took upon itself to watch the horror massacres below, away from the trees, away from the foresting limbs of pleads that exhaled from begging mouths, away from the tall, pillared building of happy-go lucky white, a painful tranquility. The full moon poured in a squared flood of fair light through imprisoning bars, dark shadows slicing the hopeful light in barred pieces. White walls carried the stench of over-cleanliness; bed sheets white and fluffy, supposedly comfortable pillows pale as rice paper, the only color in the room being the prisoner's streaks of natural purple hair and the dead brown of table desks and shelves, the silver of mealy trays and untouched food, collected from day after day._

_Teresa crumbled in a tight, forgetting ball. Her locked arms were sore from a year and a half of a hellhole. The broad, white room was the least bit comforting yet all the while worth remembering. She backed herself into a protective corner, arms she had none, legs too weak. Purple strands of hair were at her face, and she no longer cared to brush them away. She no longer cared for material things. Her lips were tightly sealed secretly, the straight light of secretion twitching after every scream in the bloodlust night. Stars would give no hope today, she knew. The foggy, periwinkle clouds would act as a fabric coverlet over the sky, forcefully putting them to sleep, as if parental, authorized fingers creating imprisoning bars to a young one's eyes, hopefully leaving them unaware of the sexual and violent scenes displayed on the movie screen. The foggy purple clouds began to wonder why they had even brought these tiny specks of hope-giving children to watch the film of death._

_Sad violet eyes of a fourteen and a half year-old wanted to fall asleep, wanted to close and seal themselves away into sadness. Her mind would not allow it. If she fell asleep for even a second, she would punish herself. She was too afraid that something would happen to her – just like the same thing that killed her bonds, killed her relations with other people. She hoped to hide herself away from the horrid yells, hoping to keep herself away from them. It would not work. The stench of hot, thick bloodlust filled even the highest of rooms in the building, driving other prisoners crazy with their own thirst of death, and driving others with fear and over accentuated faces. Biting her bottom lip, Teresa hoped to wash the fear away with pain. No matter how much she bled, in never went away. There was no sea strong enough to seep this fear away._

_She thought of her friends, her friends that she had not spoken to in a year, friends that she still hopefully had relations with. She would not let herself become a lonely person with no connections. Then, she wondered what really was happening out there. Time after time, she heard a familiar cry, a strangely familiar cry at that, even though it had been so long since she had heard last from them. Just what was going on? Would she even want to know? Cracking of bone filled the air outside. Her eyes winced in hellish thoughts. She slowly brought herself to her feet. It seemed hard to even do that. Her arms felt so unbelievably uncomfortable in their prison of tight hold against her body. This damned straightjacket would never come off, and when it finally does, my arms will probably be glued together with hateful sweat, Teresa thought to herself._

_Her light, uncomfortable shoes stretched as her feet had outgrown them. They paced silently across white, pale tiles of slipperiness. It was like walking on solid water, however, yet not ice. A new tile iced the bottoms of her feet as she stepped to new ones, leaving the warmth she set up in the corner die away. She peered out the window, hoping to find something. Somehow, the moonlight irritated her eyes. The yellow-green glow of widened eyes filled her eyes with dents of shine. Purple hair fixed itself._

_She hoped to find some answers beyond the foresting trees below, but all she found was shaking, shameful heads. Some were calm, some were frozen in horror. Or was it all of them were frozen in horror, and in fact, shaking in horror as well? Maybe that was it. Powerful, yet to be discovered eyes peered down below and beyond the forest. Nothing remained but faraway buildings in the distance that seemed to rumble cries through the night. The large body of moon seemed to want to crash down like a hateful meteor on the city below it. Stars tried to twinkle beneath the bedcovers of misty clouds, children's innocent and curious eyes trying to peer through the filtered cracks between parents' fingers._

_"What're you looking at?" a voice called out to her suddenly in the same room._

_She gasped. Who was there? Who could be visiting now? She hadn't heard the door open. She hadn't sensed anyone enter. How could anyone be there? She turned her head uneasily, her violet eyes broadened and stretched with curiosity and disbelief, knowing that whoever was there, she certainly wouldn't like the presence of him or her. It was mostly him's, though. Her eyes widened even more in realization, as if possible. She tried to speak, but her voice was choked, lost. It seems that she had not forgotten anything over the years. It seemed that she remembered everything perfectly clear, as if a photograph struck through her mind with the absence of a camera. Would that be one thing gained out of this whole horrid incident back then?_

_"Wondering about your friends?" the voice asked._

_"Y-you're…" Teresa's voice stammered. It couldn't be. Could it? Yes, it was. The same face in the "photographs." "You're…!" she couldn't complete the sentence. She really couldn't because she can't._

_"Seems you still remember me after a year and a half," the voice chuckled. "I can't believe you're the first Miroku who carries its legacy to actually tell the authorities about how you saw a ghost murder your family. You know they wouldn't believe you. What were you, delusional or something?"_

_"You!" Teresa cried out, the only word she knew._

_"Can't you say anything else? You're very boring," the apparition spoke amusingly. Crescent slits of a lunar memory of past weeks glowed and glowered meanly and ominously, eyes gleaming with an eerie yellow, just like the moon outside, which provided paints of light flashing over one side of the surprise's face. "I wonder… are you wondering about your useless bonds?" Teresa ground her teeth. "How amusing. If you desire to see your outside friends so badly, I'll give you a chance. However, I can't say that what you'll see will be pleasing – or what might happen right after." The ghost chuckled as rattling chains scraped the white, clean floor with its evil nails._

_Teresa did nothing now. A chance to see… her friends? With a burst of chained daggers, the ghost swung its sleeve to the barred door and broke it open, breaking it into pieces. "Go ahead," the apparition spoke ghastly as it faded away into nothingness, leaving nothing behind but Teresa and a broken, crumbled door. The purple haired girl gulped nervously. Then, having enough, rushed out of the open portal, feeling the first bits of freedom as she ran into the hallway._

_Moments later, she found herself outside past the trees and before the city. She was sandwiched between the two with no pressure. She paced through the whispering blades of grass tickling her ankles with a sense of freedom, as if trying to warn her, trying to claim her before she went inside the city, a sympathetic and gentle beckoning, an unnoticed seduction. The coldness of the night seemed new to her as she stared at the sky. It was weird to finally see it again from a different angle than those damned bars at the window. Finally, there was a land with slope; finally there was land with green and grass and life! How she loved the life around her! How she loved and bathed in her minutes of freedom! She flashed a tiny, unnoticeable smile as she gave a last second glance at the building. Hopefully, I'll find someone I know in the city and they'll take me in, and they'll hide me so I won't ever have to go back to that place, she said, her glance now shifting to a dreadful gaze at the tall white building. It looked a shadowy blue in the night. She sighed a deep sigh of relaxation, glad to breathe in the cool, in fact, cold air._

_She ran off now, eagerly and hopefully through the sifting grass as she approached the buildings that always seemed so far away, a dream never achieved. But now, she stepped at the front gates of the city, and looked to the once busy and crowd-filled stores and houses, watching the dream right before she took a swim in it. Entering the gate, she wondered what so happily awaited her. Happily. _


	84. Chapter 84

_Teresa ran off into the distance, panting as her feet shuffled in an eager anxiety. She gave thorough, heavy breaths; breaths of fear? No, it was more like breaths of, in fact, happiness. Somewhere in her mind she began to wonder why her thoughts were beginning to brighten up so suddenly, so quickly and shockingly that it seemed surreal. Why did she fill with hints of bliss so casually, so unexpectedly? That same part of her mind was not noticed._

_The silent moon glowed, an orb of green-yellow the center of the periwinkle and dim, enigmatic skies. Darkness filled the corners of the walks without streets, the unpaved dirt ground, poor as could be. Delicate, white shoes crunched the last hairs of green nature as if claiming victory over the new freedom. Freedom – it was what she had thought it was. Shadowy feet stepped delicately into the old part of the city, eyes examining it, feeling of it. The violet, long gazes gouged the scenery with enormous scoops, strained the color from the new world that shouldn't be so new. She noticed the little things that changed as Teresa, still much eager but much slower continued her path across the dirt ground._

_This part of the city was poorer than the rest. Kinotoro Town, in fact, was what they called the portion of the whole thing. It didn't last long, a small area where more of her friends grew up and lived. Dusty brown floors padded the ground with blankets over blankets of dirt, a soft, caking defense that made little effect. Winds whispered, and combed her hair into an ironic further messiness. Screams echoed once more, defenseless cries to the moon._

_"What's going on?" Teresa asked herself, knowing that no answer would be given. The night suddenly became eerie. The time of freedom faded into a time of omen, a time of displeasure and despair. The moon was to be put to sleep, the orb of light fading away from society's realization. Questions would be asked, questions like, "Moon? What's a moon?" or, "Moon? That's a mighty fine word you've made up there, boy!" Yes, these statements would be used as the shadows of icy, cold-blue clouds wrapped their fingers dominantly over the yellow-green orb of mythic cheese._

_More screams echoed, as if an answer to Teresa, angry cries of help. That guy… Teresa thought, thinking of the apparition that had visited her earlier. She thought of his crooked, everlasting smile, eyes of crescent memories from the past month, never wanting to let go. She remembered the rattling chains against the porcelain white, clean tiles of the floor, tainting them with certain evil virus. Screaming echoes became screeching blares now. Blares of hell that came from a chorus of instruments, a blackened room of white dress shirts and unclothed ebony ties, absent beings in a blackish tuxes that so skillfully fingered their golden instruments, snakes of golden bell-head, thin, muscular goldenrod being jerked back and forth for a beautiful, shrill sound. Ah, how this choir worked so well together! The chorus of the night hummed along to its beautiful song. Silent hushes of the moon rocked inside cribs of drowsy, pillow claiming clouds. Stars twinkled like the far away curiosity of an innocent child. Trees whispered to one another with untainted yet untamed gossip, their thin, outstretched fingers much too bony as they tickled the laughing wind. Scoffs of dirt dusted past, like its opposite mop edition, a cleaner instead of dirtier._

_Eager, unknowing footsteps became a psycho dance of feet as they hurriedly dirtied the floor with their invisible stains. Screams played motivational music for the violet-haired girl as they whispered to her, beckoned to her for her presence, drawing her closer and closer – and she, being the naïve one back then, followed. Her curiosity took over her, and this time, it wouldn't kill the cat, it would scare the jitters out of it instead. The farm, she thought. It's coming from the farm. She ran past many wooden houses, windowed eyes dark without life, soulless squares of hate and patience. Doors were shut tight, sealed lips uneager to spill secrets. Roofed heads blockaded mental intrusion. No lights were on, not even a tiny, single flicker of a candle was spotted._

_Enthusiasm turned to anxiety as anxiety turned to panic. A panic that hurt, that stabbed like a damned blade of hate, hate that originated from love. Picking a place she knew out of the blue, one of the few she remembered through the past years, Teresa ran uneasily, feeling her stomach turn over, as if a delicious, hissing pancake being tossed and turned by a frying pan with the hot smell of breakfast syrup. Nothing, however, was pleasing as a stack of hot cakes now. Everything seemed to be quite the opposite, a quiet secretion waiting to be found, waiting to be discovered and exposed for what it truly was. Darkness waited – waited impatiently, as if tapping its foot, a growing, tempering thump against the dirt ground, an eager, intolerant eye watching the irritated hands click and spin slowly inside the golden bracelet._

_Teresa screamed. Her feet hauled to a stop, her dance of feet turning into a stand of horror. What she saw brought her mouth wide open, as if prying them with scissors. Her eyes stretched like webs, webs that begged and begged for the maximum amount of insects it could receive, greedy, sticky fingers much too selfish and conceited that they had to grow more of their own, stretching out to as far as they could. Once innocent tanned fingers now becoming a sticky whiteness, an uncared exposedness of its true greed. Watching the skinned faces and bodies of what could have been someone she knew, she threw up as she was brought to her knees. They cracked against the padded floor with a horrid sneer as her voice retched out contents. There was never much that she ate from her depression, so there was not much to throw up._

_She picked her head up, now wishing that she could brush away her strands of hair away from her mouth. Comfort that she had lost began to rebuild its first level in her. Her eyes shuddered with disbelief. Taking a long, wasteful scan around the whole one-eighty degree area, she started from the beginning. She saw piles upon piles of hay, caked with drops of red, as if specific rain. Pitchforks were caked with rusted reds, bodies lying all over the floor, tossed and turned, unorganized sickeningly. Farm tools were spread all over the ground like a sprinkled rainbow over an ice cream cone – sharp farm tools dripping and bathing themselves in a hot tub of icy cold scarlet of the night. Instruments of cropping were turned over on their sides, their backs, in every single direction but the right one. And lastly, bodies, tens of them spilled over the floor, wounds not showing themselves, hiding themselves in secrecy, but yet, giving away their sense of lifeless blinks and motionless finger twitches. They lay on their shoulders, their sides, their backs, staring into the coldest sky with thieving vindication. Arms were limp and ice hard with blue. Dead. All bodies, dead. Even though the wounds did not show, blood showed in random places instead. Blood all over the skin of other people, splotches and pools of them, a crazed paintball game gone too far. Horribly distorted, their faces seemed to crawl out of them, and the once recognized and loved people she knew could not be distinguished now. Now, their faces were lost, eaten away by the horrid, cannibal blood._

_Feeling her legs tremble uneasily, she felt like falling to her knees again, as if giving up and letting her obedience wander to whomever it wished. She prevented herself from doing so, knowing that it would just give her an even more extended form of sadness, an even further form of uncomforting cold. Her arms seemed glued together wrapped in front and around her as she brought her dragging, resistant feet towards the farm's entrance. Its red, happy, cheery cherry walls were now infected by the horrid, somehow not camouflaged blood. Dropping to her knees for one purpose only, Teresa took a bloodstained axe, feeling the surreal feelings seep into her. What happened…? What happened? What happened? She repeated the same questions over and over again, never finding the answers within her deep self. She opened her mouth, showing her expertly cleaned teeth as she picked up the axe by the handle, feeling the heavy weight of the metal blade and it's dripping red splotch sickening her with its hot, warm stench._

_Hissing wildly, a voice spoke to her from behind. It was obvious who, she had no needs nor wants to turn around and see. "I never promised you happiness in freedom, did I?" the croaky, evil voice asked. Demonic laughter chuckled, louder and louder, rising in her head behind her as he tightly clenched the heavy axe handle between her grudged, hateful teeth. "The police will come to get you. You will stay here until sunrise until the few policemen left in this city beyond the town's border find you and blame you for the murder. Good luck in those next years in that mental institute. You just might be stupid enough to tell them a ghost murdered the ones you love, and not you."_

_Teresa didn't seem to care. She was too shocked, her cheeks frozen even to a crisp, her teeth a brisk ice, trembling without shuddering. Eyes began to drop woozily, wearily, as if wanting to go to sleep, as if wanting to escape, as if not caring at all of what would happen next. Hopeful eyes lost their twinkling stars, and the next day, everything – no not everything was back to the way it was._

Returning back to the real world, Teresa still found herself locked in a trance, remembering more moments of the past, more memories of the present and past, becoming so psychotic, she remembered ones of the future, remembering ones that haven't happened yet! She could not see the future, but her mind's unstableness told her that she did. Screams of Daniel's protectiveness for his brother echoed in her mind. He was scared. But he tried to tell himself that he wasn't. He tried to tell himself that he was strong enough to defeat his enemies, just for his brother. But really, who was he kidding?

"I'll put you, the protector in an illusion so big, you won't be able to move," the apparition stated with a booming, unphysical voice, the same ghastly voice that spoke to Teresa those years ago.

"What?" Daniel asked in disbelief. Seconds later, he found the world swirling in a merry-go-round carnival, spinning and spinning, swiping and swiping, swiping his better judgments away, swiping them like a hell that wouldn't seem to stop growing and growing, knowing no horizontal, nor vertical ends. He screamed. Screamed in despair, in a disordered reality he had been caught up in, feeling stabbing pains of thick, metallic pins strike through him and stab right through his body over and over again like pricks. Outside, he only felt the pain, but in his mind, he saw everything.

Screams came from another direction, screams of hate and unlocked pasts opening through the metallic, mental doors that confined them for so long. Teresa's screams. They echoed through the bushes as she continued on in her world of reverse reality. The apparition had its attention caught. Its invisible silhouette jerked its head to the direction of the screeching bushes, and smiled, asking in peculiarity, "Oh?" Senses were piquing. Teresa screamed, backed up and curdled into a tiny little sphere of disordered defense. She imagined Eric all of a sudden, a rush of his words coming into her mind. Then, she gasped. Eyes open in realization, but trance not quite snapped. Then, she continued her trembling as the invisible apparition walked forth with a playful grin.

PoVS

The sun hung in the sky, about to set. Before, it was directly overhead, but now, it was far, far away into the horizon as if the presences repelled it. Smoke piled everywhere, a rising blanket for the sky's bright orange scenery. Hell was about to rise. "I've had enough," Eric and Walter's enemy spoke through chapped and chafed lips. They were about to bleed by themselves, as if he hadn't all ready had enough wounds and scars to make up for it. "I'll become more serious. They shouldn't last too long like that!"

With a rush, the opponent zoomed out and came for the two, not too tired Minors. Fighting with Eric with hand to hand combat, Eric dodged the axe's swings skillfully, slowly turning around the opponent and jumping away when he swung the axe like a disk. The axe of love spiraled through the air and was caught by Walter's predicting fingers, his full arm turning into an aquatic, widened state. With a battle cry, Walter pummeled the axe downward and aimed for the owner. Just in time, the antagonist side jumped away and the axe crashed into the ground below. Hands began to sore from the constant blocking of punches and kicks. Feet became tired from perennial standing. Eyes became tired from wandering. Forearms became tired from lifting. Lungs became tired from breathing.

That axe… Eric thought, giving it a careful gaze as Walter drew his aquatic arm back and molded it into his regular, human one. It looks really familiar… he thought, trying to put his finger on where and how he saw that axe. I got it! he figured finally. So… that axe is the same one as… Eric remembered when he chopped the wood for the fire. I see. So he's been following us from the start. I can't believe I didn't notice the love sign on the axe. Maybe it was caked with dirt. I have to finish this fast, then. With a deep breath, Eric burst out a cloud of hot, reddish flame. The fire traveled through the area in a small, minuscule string and widened to a big burst of orange and red wisps, burning the area yet not burning the trees. The hot light it gave off hissed at Eric's chockfull of flamed cheeks.

Taking the love axe as if commanding it from Walter's feet, the opponent brought it back to his hand and began spinning it, blocking the hot-red flames with his rotational defense again. It was beginning to get annoying. The whirling of the axe stopped as the hot red cloud became hot red wisps, until they just stopped and became wisps, and then, finally, wisps became nothing. Eric breathed in a big gasp of oxygen. Cool air was rather comfortable inside his hot, burning mouth from a recent fire-blowing. "I'll tell you one thing," the opponent said as white smoke rose from the corners of the bladed axe. Eric and Walter shifted their feet and fixed their stances uneasily in nervous preparation. "I'll make the love axe give the last hit. I won't even put a scratch on you with the hate axe," he gave away.

"Giving us that kind of information will be your downfall," Walter smiled as he readied himself from nervousness to confidence. He pulsed with determination as he got his Half Spirit energy ready.

"Oh? Is it, really?" the enemy asked scornfully. He sneered with slits of eyes.

Walter sneered just as mockingly back. With pulsing hands, the Water Minor stamped the ground with his seal of approval, waiting for the eruptions to burst out like volcanoes. His command was soon followed. First, the earth rumbled. The ground shook as if shuddering from extreme cold. Then, finally, it burst in laughter, blazing out great towers of watering geysers. Oh, how they burst them out from the cracks in the ground, widening them like crazy mouths of contained laughter! The blistering geysers shot at the sky like bullets with no potential, too fat to reach their ultimate cloud destiny. The streams of vertical rivers made a wall for piercing eyes as they dropped to the ground, crashing water forcing the enemy to jump up frantically, flipping skillfully.

The water rushed like crashing waves in a forest. "Maina Mizu: Sameryu! –Shark Dragon!-" Walter declared angrily as the booming waters churned strips of water outward, saluting themselves into a big burst of a long bodied-shark. The growling teeth of molded water shuffled through the air with the sound of ocean waves as it bounced and crashed like a roller coaster all throughout the area of the antagonist. He dodged each hit of water skillfully and barely, ducking and flipping and doing all the nine miles. Then, seeing a chance, Eric breathed in another whiff of air. With a huge blast, he shot out a wave of flattened flame, a hot red ecstasy blowing up the great waves of water and blistering the blue into white hot steam, a mist for advantage – gambit.

The enemy was now lost in the smoke as the three waited for it to disappear. Walter scoffed, unsatisfied.

PoVS

_"I don't want relations," Teresa had said in her old, orange and grey photographic universe, where the confusing made sense and the sensibility was made into confusion._

_"What if two people have a connection all ready, and one of them reads a note, saying that connections are pointless, and you're the one who gets hurt in the end by the other person. Then the other person sees it lying around, and starts to believe in it as well. Then, who's the one who gets hurt in the end?" Eric had asked her, proving her wrong at some point, conceiving a new thought in the deep, unnoticed corners in her mind. He had said these words so confidently, so strongly, as if he knew the exact effect it would have on her. His arms were crossed, showing his cool, calm-headedness, his eyes showing nothing but his good, friendly purposes._

_"Call me crazy if you want, but, it's like he can erase all your problems just by talking to you long enough. He really is something, that guy," Daniel muttered to himself." Daniel had spoken his words so strongly as well. So strongly, so believingly. So gullibly? No! Not gullibly. He was smart, Teresa knew, and he would never guide her the wrong way. And she would not do what he asked. She would not call him crazy. _

_"I'll protect you. I'll protect you with all my life, Kenneth," Daniel had spoken to Kenneth during the week. Daniel had smiled, and Kenneth had smiled. Flashes of confidence showed in the redhead's eyes, and Kenneth, being a grateful one, promised to repay the favors._

_What did these words mean to her? Did they mean absolute crap? Or did they mean something more? Did they mean that these people who had spoken them had much more of a better sense than that of hers? The three big statements, "What if," "Erase your problems," and "I'll protect you." These words meant so much more to her than they should to anyone else in the world._

_It's because of relations that we have something to fight for. This is why we are strong; some other part of Teresa told her. Then, the ghost. The apparition that killed her boyfriend and the ones she cared for so much, the dreaded face appeared in her thoughts, shocking her, giving her a hellish chill down her back with that crescent, demonic smile. Dark red eyes glowed and glowered, scowling at her threateningly. _

Teresa gasped herself back to reality. What happened? She thought. What was going on? An invisible presence seemed to linger around her, breathing all over her like an innocent pedophile waiting with dreadful eyes. She could feel the steel-hard stare on top of her like iron bars crushing her bones. What was this feeling? "Finally, you're awake," the ghost's voice sounded. That voice! It's so… familiar! "Now, die!" Teresa cried out.

PoVS

White smoke continued to hiss wildly as everyone waited. Slowly, it was brushed away by the wind, knots of hissing white instead of hair being slowly combed away into nothingness. "I'll end this now," the enemy said, appearing from the white, bristling smoke, rather loudly, as if to make sure that his opponents had heard him.

"Eric," Walter called out without looking at him. Eric nodded in acknowledgment. "He'll end with 'love.'" Walter made sure Eric knew. Eric nodded once more as they fixed their stances, nothing else to do but wait. At least they could make extra sure that they were fully prepared for the big hit.

"Die!" the enemy cried out as he swung the axe of love through the air with its highest speed ever. Eric and Walter gasped at the unexpected velocity. An evil grin grew on the opponent's features. Eyes twinkled like stars waiting to be born in the night, eager enough to reveal themselves in the evening, only to get shot by greedy hunters of the midnight blues, otherwise known as the dark, pitch-black night sky. Oh, how they hunted and hunted for those children of the night, the father moon and mother sun taking equal amounts of time to look after them. The whizzing axe surprised Eric and Walter even further, and suddenly, they found themselves completely and totally unprepared, losing grip over all their wasteful time fixing their stances and glares to a perfect narrowed slant. They were done for.


	85. Chapter 85

"Die!" the opponent's cries echoed within himself. The sun's light lingered in the sky. Traces of the golden rays were found throughout punctured, shuffled holes in the forest roofs. The bright halo was donned by a head of clouds, chest of sky blue world. White puffs of leisure trotted by as well, hooves pouncing over layered, absent grounds. Disturbed winds panicked past, headed trees turning their respective bodies away with rustles. The weather was good, yet tense, unaware of the human, insane lives that these people carried. Intense heat burned scornfully, penalizing the humans' perspiring bodies for claiming power and will over nature and its ways of life.

White smoke hissed against the air as birds fluttered past, leaving trails of ebon innocence, feathers of raining hope. The axe of love cut bodies of wind, splicing invisible splotches of blood into the air. The whizzing, reflecting metal came closer and closer, and eyes began to dilate in hope. Trembling lips couldn't help a joyful grin.

Dodging out of the way, Walter barely missed the axe at his feet. Its head bit deep into the skin of the ground, sucking up its blood. The slight, tense confidence washed away from him as he dropped back to the ground. He kept an eye on the axe, knowing, waiting for it to do something. "Keep an eye on it," Walter told Eric. "It's going to give us the last hit," Walter warned. Eric nodded his head without a word. The two shifted their feet, fixing their skillful stances.

Suddenly, from the whispering, still clearing white smoke came the axe of hate, its first swing. Its potential was equal to that of the love axe, and even whirled the same way. "It's a trap," Eric told Walter as he altered his legs. "Don't pay any attention to the hate one. It won't land a scratch on us, remember?" A deviant grin showed itself from the rising cloud of white smoke. Eric waited, perspiration sliding down the side of his tanned cheek.

Walter watched, looking back and forth at the two axes, one swinging through the air like a crazy, psycho-killer, the other one dining on the blood of the dirt, teeth sinking deep into the ground, waiting for something – something unknown. Something's not right, he told himself as he began to sweat as well. Perspiration dotted his forehead as he gave frantic, tense looks to both weapons, two different ones in so many different ways, yet both exactly the same.

"_You should pay attention to what I say," the enemy had warned. "You just might tie with me."_

_"Love goes first," he had suddenly begun speaking, holding the love axe to Walter's face that was yards away, as if he were threatening him. "… then is replaced by hate, and when it does, it all comes crashing down on you when you least expect it and will follow you wherever you go," he had explained, a random saying._

_"I'll tell you one thing. I'll make love give the last hit. I won't even put a scratch on you with the hate axe."_

_"Ha," Walter had scoffed at him, clenching fists tightly and narrowing eyes coolly. "Telling us such a thing like that will be your downfall," he accused._

_"Oh?" the enemy had replied. "Is it?"_

_"Is it? Is it? Is it?" _

The words kept repeating in Walter's mind like a wheel that wouldn't stop spinning, mixing Walter into a hyped confusion, a dazzling of stars, a crazed perplexity and disorder. Are we really supposed to trust him? Walter thought, suspicious eyes narrowing with distrust.

_"You should pay attention to what I say," Walter remembered the enemy's words again. "You just might tie with me."_

Carrying around such a heavy axe when he's not even going to attack with one of them… _"Love goes first, then is replaced by hate, and when it does it all comes crashing down on you when you least expect it," _Walter remembered once more. No way! He thought, his eyes stretching to a realization as exclamation points filled his mind. Sharp gasps gave him reality to quickly and swiftly breathe in, a short, tiny vacuum. He couldn't be…! Walter glared nervously from a rising panic at the axe just bare feet away from him. Sunlight reflected off its bare corners, its glowering teeth, threatening with its lusting canines, its luster fangs. The Water Minor gulped nervously. There's no time to waste, he told himself scornfully. "Suidangan!" Walter cried out. Water bullets shot from his shoulders and washed like pressured tears against the hot, heated metal of the metallic, lustrous blade. Three or four drops washed against the blazing, metal screen, expanding like a crashing wave. The cold water hissed as it evaporated, taking the inked kanji letter of love with it.

The love character faded, and Walter's tension grew, the guessed reality becoming more real and real by the second as the letter faded away and formed into hate. _"First comes love, and then is replaced by hate."_

No way! Then that means…! Walter quickly glanced to the incoming axe. 'Watch out!" Walter cried out suddenly, surprising Eric. The Fire Minor's stance messed up as he gasped slightly. His questioned expressions said everything for him. "That axe! It's going to hit! Just catch it! Catch it!" Walter begged in screaming voices, eager and a bit scared to death.

Eric, noticing the frantic cries of his partner and the urgency he found in them, nodded in agreement and turned his focus back to the whirling axe. Keeping a keen eye for its handle, Eric caught the replicated, or was it original, hate axe in his right hand. He sighed a relieved exhale, calming himself a little. "Got it!" he cried out, victorious. The grin beneath the cloud of white smoke turned to a sneering frown of grudge. Eric cried out as he threw the axe back in the enemy's direction, swinging it with all his strength, as if it were the last one he was to ever give in his lifetime.

The opponent swiftly dodged, torpedoing out of the white smoke from a burst of body. The axe flung into the mist and disappeared, the pale fog eating away at it with its hungry, demonic famine. Flying towards Eric, the enemy sneered as he made effortful kicks to his head. Eric backed up in caution and blocked each one skillfully in the air. The hits of impact against his forearm were nothing compared to what he could've felt.

Slowly lowering in elevation, the antagonist side made spinning, rotating kicks, a horizontal bodied dance. Eric evaded each one with skill, ducking this way and that. Now starting with hand to hand combat, Eric turned and twisted in various ways, Walter forced to watch until he found a right position to assist his teammate. Giving a kick to his stomach, Eric caused the enemy to go flying into the air, the brown-haired boy soon going after him, flying into the air as well.

Fluttering winds like feathered hands smacked against their resistant bodies, clothes like wishing wings flapping around, representative flags of fury. Both in midair, one body horizontal and limp, Eric brought his knees into the enemy's stomach to pin him down as they crashed to the floor, blistering out a fireworks parade of dust and smoke. Clattered rocks spewed everywhere from pitied mouths. Dust cleared easily and soon, no longer wanting to be used for suspense, betraying their boss's word happily, and most important, eagerly. "Eric...!" Walter cried out in care without realizing so.

Flames began to circle the two people as they remained in the same position. Whispering flames rotated like pushed away hands of a clock, spinning wildly as if getting hyped up to do some real damage. They cracked in a happy laugh, an evil witch's cauldron as they snickered with flickering embers. Spiked walls of red and orange flashed bright light, even in the luminescent sunlight. The opponent found himself stuck in a cracked hole in the ground, his back and thighs stuck inside, his limbs hanging out not the least bit comfortably as if he were in a hot tub with no water. Eric's knee remained at his umbilicus, holding him down, making sure that there was no escape. A tanned, sweating hand remained at the discolored guy's chest, blistering with heat ready to blast a huge hurl of flame – a vomit of red from fingers. Hot, surrounding fire burned passionate, confident eyes' dark brownness. Fingernails hissed. No words escaped lips; tension rose. Walter gulped nervously. "What're you going to do now," Eric asked. "Now that your axes are gone? You could be dead."

"Go ahead," a croaky voice pleaded with the least amount of want. A straight, thin line acted as a mouth. Serious dark eyes peered back into each other's faces. Heat seemed to add to the tense, surrounding energy, even thicker than the blazing flames – the cage of hell – and decision. "Maybe I'd rather be dead than to stay in this confused world of wrong judgment."

"No," Eric refused. Tension dropped like hope gone. Serious lines turned into shocked, piqued faces. Then, the shock became hate, disgust even. Eric slowly pulled his kneecap away from the opponent's stomach and got up on his own two feet. He picked his body away from the other, and stared pitifully at the wasted life. No reaction from either side. "I have no intention of killing you," Eric explained. Walter's eyes broadened with a hellish intent. Fingers trembled, as if playing invisible piano backwards, pouncing on the keys as if hate on love, wanting to bleed so badly from the impact. "My purpose is to protect the ones I care for. Not to kill people like you." Eric turned, taking one last, slow glance at the body lying in the hole in the ground. Then, the brown eyes shifted completely, and sandaled feet began to click on the dirt ground, clicking away from the body, clicking slowly, slowly away. The red clothed boy began to fade from sight as he walked towards Walter.

"Oh?" the enemy said, piqued in interest. His lips twisted in curiosity as they let out the distorted word in an exhale. An amused smile grew on his lips. Eyes became dark with rolling thunder clouds, a deviant thought of abnormality growing deep, deep behind them in its own, murderous secretion.

Walter's fingers trembled even more, legs shaking furiously in fuming anger. Teeth tightly ground each other as fists clenched, wanting to punch the crap out of his partner. Dark, brown eyes began to heat and fluster with blue sparks. "Damn it!" Walter cried out to Eric as the red clothed boy approached him. His words blurted out in an infuriating rage, a puzzlement of words before the horrid screech of confusion. "Eric, what do you think you're doing!?" Walter yelled, irritated. Eyes narrowed and glowed with eager agitation.

The opponent smirked and scoffed as he slowly, and weakly, got up to his feet. He crawled out of the hole, pulling himself up with one discolored hand, muscles flexing sickeningly as the evil grin brushed away rocks and pebbles clinging to his skin from the impact. He stumbled forward, head bowed in uneasy weakness, trying to get used to his feet once again. He walked on the cracks that webbed outward from the huge, dynamic hole in the ground, outstretched, greedy fingers wanting more and more, wanting, _needing _to dominate the world. "If you won't kill him, I'll do it for you!" Walter screamed at his teammate as he watched him walk closer and closer by, inching nearer and nearer. His solemn, calm steps seemed to be his only answer as they clung to the ground affectionately with each one. His lips did not give even the slightest impression of speaking.

"Too late!" the enemy's voice cried out wickedly. Now, having the axe of hate in his greedy, selfish hands, the enemy stumbled forward, and that stumbling became a walk. That walk became a pace, and then, finally, that pace became an eager, agile run. He seemed to come in contact with Eric within seconds. Eric glanced back with a turn of his head, but not body. Dark, uncaring and calming eyes stared belittlingly back at the enemy's attempts as he saw him bring the axe up high into the sky, its head shimmering gloriously with sunlight galore. And then, finally, the axe came down. _Crack!_ The axe gave a loud scream as the clouds above lingered like puppets, carefree dances to the sun. And then, as if fired by a water gun, blood squirt into the air, bursting in red glare.

PoVS

"Die!" the apparition's voice sounded in a rasp. An unseen whack hit Teresa hard against her jaw. Her head pulled to her right, the sudden unnoticed attack bursting out saliva into the ground away from her. Her body tumbled to its side. She coughed out, confused, squinting. She remained on her side, scared, thinking that if she tried to bring herself back up, she would just be knocked down again. This was true for her, in fact, true for both physically and emotionally.

Tortured cries from the clouded mind of Daniel echoed through the forest. He was warped into a glowing green circle of light, mythical letters scrambled all over it like a pan of breakfast. The unsorted, flattened letters lay on the floor, an eerie glow hissing loudly. The redhead was on his knees, caught up in the illusion with his head bowed down in exposed weakness and shame, humiliation. Kanji characters were placed around the circle, surrounding it like a shield. They were in orbs of green as well, and burst out two or three thickened, glowing lines connecting to different parts of the redhead's body. Arms were hung out as if he had been crucified, sacrificed for the good of all others. His hands hung limply and helplessly from their respective wrists. Echoing cries gave off the background music of death – tormenting anguish blistering from his screams of hell.

Kenneth, frozen in horror lay helplessly against the body of a tree. His eyes were frozen in ironic ice, his teeth showing themselves ever so slightly, not moving a centimeter, even. Arms and fingers trembled at his side, clinging onto the bark of the tree for support, support that he didn't find. Legs shook unevenly, unsteadily, ready to fall down any moment. But if he should ever fall down, it was sure enough that he would burst out screaming, gone psychotic from the Swamp of Mystery's extreme psychosis. He was completely caught up in his own paranoid trance. The only light were traces of the green, deviant light from the illusion Daniel was put under. Sunlight couldn't even pierce the cold, freezing mist at this point.

"What?" a voice came at Teresa from all directions. Teresa gasped, her chest breathing heavily and nervously, making extra careful to show that she was alive - a new discovered habit of a situation like this. She didn't know what else to do, she just made sure whoever was watching her knew that she was alive – knew that she was paying attention. Maybe it would hit her if it thought she hadn't. "Are you so forgetful that you can't even remember me?" the voice asked from up, down, left, right, forth, and behind. Teresa's mouth continued to drool out her scared, paranoid saliva subconsciously as her violet eyes trembled in fear. Heavy breaths could not wash away her growing emotion.

"Who-no…" Teresa said through a whispering voice. "No way…" she said halfheartedly, barely realizing that her lips were moving and making sounds. A punch brought her upward again, this time coming from the left. It brought her back sitting up, and now, both cheeks pulsing with pain and blistering heated poison – poison from the touch of a long memorable enemy, she waited. Waited for the pain. Waited for her death, because she knew she couldn't do anything. Her breathing was forcefully stopped. It had done nothing, yet she felt like she needed to do it again, at least something – _anything_ normal would be nice right now. No, she thought. Nothing was normal. Not now, not ever. How saddening. Her purple hair did not fall to her face anymore. They kept themselves hidden behind the head of a girl who tired to keep herself from trembling crazily, as if she were a bomb ready to explode.

The booming voice scoffed. "I should've killed you back then," the voice scolded. "But… that won't matter when I'm done with you," the eerie, creepy sound echoed through the tall grass and patches of dirt with no hair – bald spots, carrying a dewy mist on them, showering its hair – the presences living in it, lice. Teresa completely froze, yet she paid attention, not wanting to get hurt again. Not from him. Not _ever_ again. "Why do you suffer so much, time and time again? It is because you carried so many relationships," the voice pummeled against her ears. Her eardrums pulsed in pain. Her eyes squint, and she thought that from that, she would get another punch, another kick. She waited. Nothing. Yet, she still waited. "But… you learned that over time, too, haven't you? However… even so, you cannot escape me." The demonically charged voice sneered evilly, belittling. "I'll save you for last," the voice said lastly as it wandered away, giving Teresa some areas of comfort as she sensed its presence walk slowly, slowly away from her. "You claim to no longer have relations with others," the sound blistered from afar now. "However, I see two, right before my eyes."

The Minor peered to Daniel's eerie green glows and bowed head and Kenneth's trembling, frozen figure. Teresa frosted over more. Yet, somehow, her lips broke their iced gloss. "No! Don't!" she begged suddenly. She waited for the extreme punch for speaking. For talking back. Her eyes began to plead helplessly. Violet glowers of a night sky shuddered in sadness, in resistance, wanting to stop everything but knowing that she couldn't. Everything seemed lost. Out of place.

"Yes," the voice went against her. "Die. Miserably," it declared loudly, scaring the hell out of the purple haired girl.

Suddenly, unseen, Daniel's finger twitched. The rest of his body remained the same, and nothing changed.

Rattling from his large, oversized sleeves, the apparition's invisibleness shot out three shattering chains, the trio of them holding their respective, diamond shaped daggers, shooting them out like bullet trains across their invisible, camouflaged tracks. They shook like a train's feet did as its millions of wheels chafed the laid down fences of metal and wood. The three daggers choo-chooed with a deathly clatter in the air as they reflected nonexistent blue luster. The three of them targeted Kenneth's unmoving and unnoticing body, and Teresa was forced to close her eyes as the enemy's invisible ones stretched even more with the same old, crescent, psychotic grin. "No!!" Teresa yelled out, squinting her eyes, not wanting to see anything that happened. She wanted to bring herself away, away, away from this world! Blood rushed to her shut eyelids as her teeth gritted each other like broken lawnmowers, trembling every now and then, sharp teeth grinding against each other.

Cracking of metal points and sharpness against bone filled the misty, dreadful air. Redness shot into the oxygen, contaminating it with its horrid, horrid scent. "Oh?" the opponent asked, piqued. "How interesting."

Slowly, Teresa opened her eyes in a dreadful flash. Suspense lingered in the air, and slowly, slowly, but surely, she discovered the hell that lay before her. Soon enough, heavy breathing filled her ears – until that breathing died and withered away, like a whiteout winter dropped upon on a lone lily.


	86. Chapter 86

The bloody red glare faded into nothingness. Mist's perennial chilling and churning began to recede. They began to mourn, and scowl themselves into tortured, greedy faces, gasping in hate. Periwinkle darkness blanketed upon bodies and bodies of trees, self-conscious fingers intervening the forest, searching and searching the black shrubs, deathly trees, flimsy pebbles, touching them, _feeling_ them. Sleuthing and searching endlessly in a never-ending hunt, searching – but never finding. Leaves rustled, shaking their heads disappointingly as few fell to the ground, plummeting softly to their cold-ground deaths. Tense pain paralyzed the air, shifting the clouds eerily above, the unseen puffs of white.

Teresa's eyes began to sore. Too much blood was beginning to fill her eyelids; it was as if her eyes were to become cracked with red. Slowly, she released the pressure on her eyes, and slowly – but surely, they began to open, stretching the walls in order to reveal tiny, miniscule violet slits of curiosity, a dreadful, deathly curiosity that was much too afraid of what it might find. Lower levels of disappointment began to show on the apparition's invisible, concealed face. Heavy breathing began to replace the sounds of the chewing, munching mist. Icy haze froze; frosty fogs chilled. The walls of her eyelids were pulled farther and farther apart, two lives never allowed to cross each other again – pulled away by hate and jealousy, pulled away by curiosity. Fully opened eyes stared in a violet, innocent gaze at the scene laid before them, shuddering in their stony placement, wanting to break free of the pale, circular hold. Teresa's body froze along with the mist, along with the scene – and along with time.

"D-Daniel…" she muttered through still gasping, trilling teeth. Her breath was hot yet cold. Her teeth chiseled themselves in an extreme frost from fear and surprise. Her voice was bare to come out, choked as it was released from her vocal chords, throttled to a shake. Forcing the shaking eyes to wander to her right, she found Daniel still stuck inside the trap, surrounded by that ominous green light, those spirit strings that stabbed into his body, his veins, his arteries! His head was bowed and bored, his arms hanging uncomfortably like a crucifying moment. Then, slowly, the image of the redhead Minor began to fade, slowly shivering into thin air. The strings detached, one of them cut and limp on the floor. The green glow powered down, a new meaning to blackout until nothing in that space remained – no traces whatsoever of anything strange happening in that spot. All was gone.

"I see…" a croaky, ghastly voice spoke through cold, masked lips. Last bits and traces of the green glow and redhead replica shivered away into camouflage wisps. "So you were somehow able to cut the soul strings with your own energy."

Heavy breathing continued. From an uninformative point of view, drops of blood showered down to the ground in slow, wasteful drops. Red, tiny puddles caked the ground and was slowly being absorbed, the circle of life. Points of view rose, and found the needled shaft of the chains, the weakening, clothed knees of a teenager. They trembled as they tried to fall, searing pain commanding otherwise. Then, finally seeing the whole thing, one could see Daniel, three dangers' points struck right into his stomach, caking the underside of his clothes with red, staining them with tainted hurt. They were still bound by their tightened chains, strong as steel as they were. They were not deep enough however, to disallow breathing. In fact, because of them, Daniel was breathing heavily. His mouth was stretched open in gasps of despair. Glasses slid down the slope of his nose slowly like a snail. Heavy tired marks blotched his cheeks, cold perspiration leaking out like a recently washed orange. Hands were at his knee, as weak and trembling as whom it supported, trying to keep the legs from falling to their doom, yet, still, ironically and controversially, helping them instead.

More drops of blood fell like rain, slowly but surely, the beginning of a storm – the beginning of the end. His shoulders were slouched as he made an effort to speak. "Kenneth…" he muttered his brother's name under his weak, unstable breath, turning back to see his brother's petrified face. He was still stuck in that fearful trance of the situation. More pain suddenly shot through him and blistered to his limbs. Daniel cried out, wincing horridly as he couldn't help but fall to his knees, bringing the three bloodied, chained daggers with him. He coughed out from the throbbing stings that stabbed every single aspect of his body. He was brought to his knees, his arms helplessly supporting him, facing the ground as he bowed to the shafted chains, feeling their cool, needled metal pricking against the skin of his forehead. He breathed in air of rust and exhaled it back out, hurting his lungs.

"Daniel…" Teresa muttered in disbelief. She couldn't believe what her eyes perceived.

The opponent scowled as he hatefully and gladly drew back the daggers, reeling them back into his sleeves with a horrid clatter. The daggers forced pulled themselves out of Daniel's stomach, giving him more searing, aching pain shooting through him like a mass shower of cannonballs inside him. Blood squirt out as the two disconnected, the three daggers bringing back their blood-stained tips into the invisible, clothed sleeves. Daniel coughed out, gagging from the immense pain. "Fine," the ghost's booming voice shattered the air, filling Daniel's paranoia ears with hell and fear, fear of what was to happen next, fear of the next step. "I'll kill you first if you insist."

Watching in a helpless retching, Teresa brought her own body to her knees and hands and heaved her stomach onto the ground, a sickly smell caking her hair as it dragged to her face. There was no time to pull it back. Her stomach felt weak and full of ache as it threw itself out of her throat, as if forcing it, pushing itself outward. Afterwards, Teresa brought herself away from the disgusting, gross puddle, taking deep, calming breaths, gagging once every now and then as she fought of wave after wave of nausea. My… my relations with other people… Teresa thought in her mind as she realized that she was the one behind all this. Eric-san, she imagined his brown eyes and strong textures. Daniel-kun, she pictured his narrow, emerald eyes beneath those glistening glasses his red hair falling over his face with that forehead full of ideas underneath. Kenneth-kun, she thought of his overly widened smile, that happiness that filled him every moment. Everyone, she, again, thought of everyone involved in the Minors-White Cloak situation. It surprised her how many there were. Jeremy-san… she thought of his innocent, ten year old smile, those broad, helpless eyes closing in joy, that white streaked hair falling to his sides handsomely, which would help him in later years of the future.

That's right, Teresa told herself as she slowly and weakly brought herself back to her trembling knees, the two caps shaking and cuddling each other for bare warmth. I must do something, she demanded of herself, trying to straighten out her back. Full of effort, she made slow and steady progress to repel her attracted knees legs from each other, trying to stop the magnetic shaking. Eric, she thought of his face once more, his crossed, only-want-to-help arms. On cue, pain shot through her from the memories and nausea, uncomfortable feelings washing over her like sanitizer did to a table, overdosed and overdone. The opponent had not noticed her actions yet, her growing will.

"Time for more," the booming voice that came from all directions spoke in a godly voice. Presence approaching, a large punch impact knocked away Daniel's glasses and shattered them, bringing them to the floor limply as he had the air beat out of him. Teresa… he thought as he collapsed to his side. Pain shot through the left side of his face, feeling as if he had been cut and grated against a million times over. He breathed heavily as he slowly and unsurely brought himself to his shins, as if sitting respectively. Teresa breathed heavily as well, trying to regain her confidence and will to live. "Die!" the presence floating away and firing another shot of a rattling chain. A new dagger shot out, clean and cut, shining with an eerie, blue shine. The tip of it twinkled in a bright bloodthirsty craving.

"Enough!" Teresa cried out, her back still lying against the gate, her eyes squinting in intolerance as her mouth screamed out that one, meaningful word, the sound echoing through the trees as if to make sure everyone in the nature's audience heard.

PoVS

Sounds of impact filled the air like an impatient lunch bell rung by a scowling old lady on a farm. Derek and Zack fought together for training, hand-to-hand combat. It was obvious that the black-haired boy was winning. Zack kept messing up and pretending nothing wrong had happened. The sun lingered in the faraway sky, beginning to set, yet not yet blistering its wave of sunset orange, an ending bright sky. We've trained for the last hour, Derek realized as he blocked punch after wasteful punch from the brown-haired, white-clothed boy. Where do we go from here? he asked himself, somehow thinking that he himself had the answer somewhere inside him.

The black-haired boy blocked a punch from the Wind-Minor and kicked him in the chest, sending him toppling over onto the ground, on his back. "Damn it!" Zack cried out in an unwanted and intolerant loss, a hated feeling of failure washing him like a face towel in the early morning to bring out his blue eyes.

Derek stood confidently and surely, looking down on the blue-eyed boy and casting his blackish, superior shadow over him. "You show your true emotions too much, Zack." Derek scorned seriously. His eyes were narrow and mean. Zack stared up absent-mindedly, not making a move to get up for who knows why. "This way, an enemy is able to find your dullest traits and observe, as well as see the sharpest. Don't give answers away when you're handing a test," Derek made a metaphor. "That's the definition of true power."

Zack sneered meanly and irrespectively. "All you do is beat me down and then lecture me on how I'm not what I 'should' be!" Zack complained for a good purpose this time. The blue eyed boy pouted sadly as he stared up at the shadow of Derek.

Derek sighed. "Let me help you up," he told Zack, somewhat changing the subject. It wasn't that he didn't like Zack. Sure, sometimes he hated the way he acted, but Derek's parents always told him those exact words when he wanted to make friends with other people. A tanned hand offered paler ones up. The paler ones accepted, giving the tanned ones a challenge to pick up, however, they pulled through with the job. Just as Zack was on his feet again, Derek thrust a palm to his chest and sent him flying with wisps of shadow energy. His back slammed against the body of a tree and erupted blossoming buds downward as the head shook. Pain shot through from the Wind Minor's back as he cried out.

"Don't trust other people so easily, either," Derek scorned. Zack pouted and sneered once more, as if to repeat what he had said earlier. Derek sighed, knowing his mistake. Walking over with care and meticulousness, he cast his shadow once more over Zack, darkening his face with an eerie shade.

Derek stared down, a mean, perspiring glare looking down on him. His dark eyes pierced through his innocent, blue ones. It was like the demon versus the angel. The black-haired seventeen year-old sighed, his eyes unstringing themselves loose from their narrowed points, dulling out as their respective mouth gave a sigh of tiresome tediousness. Derek had realized finally to stop. He had gone too far. "Sorry," Derek muttered in respect for once, changing his tone completely. This time, for real, he brought down his hand, offering a true, sincere help. Zack looked up at it, wondering if he should take it or not. He winced at the thought of the pain he could and might deal with again. "Let me help you up for real this time," Derek offered with the sincerest tone. It was obvious in his voice, and his dark, unstrung eyes.

Zack smiled, and happily, he let the tanned fingers take his less toned ones, the offering ones helping him up for real. Zack was finally brought to his feet, and somehow, he put his shield up, awaiting the big hit. However, there was no big hit. Derek gave a weak smile, as if he had forgotten how to over the many years of rarely doing so. His eyes wandered away from eye contact in embarrassment. Then, leaving Zack without a word, he left, beginning to pace back to the more sunlit area, his Geta slippers crunching the grass, having their late afternoon snack. Zack blinked. Once, twice. He really did help me this time, Zack realized with an inner smile. He decided not to mention it, knowing that Derek would deny if he ever spoke the action through his lips.

PoVS

The dagger soared through the air, slicing the wind eagerly as Daniel made no attempt to move. He would not have a plan this time. No, he did not have any signs of escape now. Now, he would have to take the hit, and now, he would have to die for the purpose of his brother. However, what were to happen if his brother died as well, just that his brother had stalled it? Daniel watched the glimmering blade come nearer and nearer, his breaths heavy and heavy, weighing more and more as time passed on. Emerald, narrowed eyes watched through the mist meanly as he somehow wished it away, wishes always failing. Then, at the last second, Daniel closed his eyes, and waited for the pain to take over him.

A sickening crack of bone and metal filled the air. New blood dripped to the floor in slow rain. "Oh?" the opponent muttered under his breath, interest piqued. It seemed to have increased in volume, like a mechanical voice speaking for the enemy that made all the mute attacks. Or maybe… even the daggered chains were sound effects as well! No one could know for sure in this thickening, frozen mist of confusion and puzzlement.

This time, it was Daniel who slowly opened his eyes. It was Daniel, who reluctantly pushed away the walls of his emerald prowess, a curiosity afraid of what it might discover lying inside them, embedded like a jewel on clothes. This time, he was the one who gave a short gasp, and this time, it was he who widened his stare, his eyes trembling in their rounded cage, shuddering in a wanted escape. "So, you've finally stopped shaking," the voice muttered again, louder this time.

A new voice's heavy breathing sounded through the air. Hazy mist gave tortured faces once again, giving wide screams of silence through the thickened periwinkle forest. Following the trail of metal, shimmering chains, the dagger struck through a hand of someone else's, crooked fingers wanting to grasp the dagger, wanting to grasp the wound and wash it away, heal it instantly, even though they did not hold such prowess in their arsenal. However, they held something so much more; they grasped something - something of much, much more importance. And soon – this something would be revealed soon enough. Heavy breathing, chest heaving with no vomit this time, Teresa's face was shaded over, her legs' trembling finally put to a stop. She stood confidently now, her hair strung behind her head, fixed as she ran for her teammate's defense. Her eyes were shaded over, her head somewhat bowed down in a solemn gaze that was just too evil to be seen, forcefully hidden away. Teresa… Daniel thought, staring up at the female's back. Her purple cloth's bagginess cast a huge blob of a shadow over him. Why? He asked simplemindedly in his thoughts, his eyes still without his glasses, appearing rather strange to anyone who might enter at the moment, which was _very _unlikely. Wide, broadened eyes cast at clung to her back and shoulders. Amazing, he thought. He didn't know why.

"You've stopped shaking," the voice noted once again, repeating itself. "How come?" it asked this time, presence still not revealed yet.

Teresa took a few more heavy breaths, her eyes still hidden in a shadow from her forehead to her nose, her mouth the only aspect of her face revealed, wide open in a thousand gasps of air. Her hand was still in front of her lower face, still having the chained dagger struck through it, the wound leaking out red liquid slowly in a tiny, microscopic river. "Because…" she began in heavy gasps. "I finally realized," she took more deep breaths between words. "…what you said earlier…was wrong." Shocked faces flashed through the mist, frozen in utter surprise, the real dealt astonishing, and a bolt from the blue. "Relationships with others aren't useless! They don't always lead to pain," she said, her voice rising and falling. "It is how you take care of your bonds that really matters. That's why…"

Everyone waited for her final words as she took in more deep, tiresome breaths. "That's why I'll stop you from killing the new bonds that I have. That's why, I'll put my life on the line to kill _you!_" Teresa screamed out in a fury, picking her head up as everyone was amazed, even more astonished than before. Her head rose as the curtain of shadow over most of her face was pulled away, showing her mean, confident glare, her lips still trembling in heavy panting. And inside her eyes, the violet had been washed away. The purple sadness had become a sickening yet powerful, pale white, and inside these two, authoritative white orbs, laid two thick, blackish pentacles of prowess embedded in her new, re-released eyes. Inside her eyes, the full form of the ghost began to form, fading into a steady presence and silhouette, slowly filling in the colors and matching them with the scenery outside. She could now perfectly see the enemy, threatening him with her eyes.

"Is that so?" the ghost asked in a croaky, raspy voice as if he were the grim reaper. "In that case, I'll prove you wrong over and over again!" the apparition spoke with a crescent, unworn smile clear to Teresa's new eyes. With a lean forward, the apparition disappeared into an agile blur.

"I won't let you!" Teresa shot back as she pulled the dagger out of her hand, wincing away the pain, knowing that there was no time to deal with such a thing now, zooming herself into her own speedy blur.

Without eyeglasses, Daniel gulped and began to search the ground for his glasses. He was on all fours, and could barely see anything except the blurs of brown and green of the forest and ground, shaved blue of the snowy white mist. I have to get these glasses – I have to! I'm… I'm too…! He couldn't bear to finish that thought. He had promised Shintenmaru that he would never, _never_ have those feelings again.

Sounds of kicks and punches burst through the air as the two confident sides fought against each other with meaningful attacks. Trailing fingers swam across the dirty ground, painting their whorls of approval all over the dusty surface as they finally came across cracked glasses. Yes! Daniel thought as he quickly brought his second hand to the first one, taking his spectacles and placing them over his eyes once again. The crack of one side made a huge disturbance in sight. Daniel gulped nervously once more, filled with fear and a hellish fright. He watched the two blurs oppose each other with amazing, twisting and turning speed.

Teresa and the opponent fought at it, hitting each other, blocking each other so they nullified each hit. "I'm not done!" Teresa shouted in pulsing determination as she gave a strong kick to the spirit's torso, now able to touch the apparition's body with her activated level of eyes. Ground teeth shaved each other as she slid from the push of the attack on her body, her feet scraping the floor as she skated backward, dragging dust with her and her long, flapping sleeves. Her hair flung upward as the skimming stopped. The enemy was still in midair, as if waiting for the other round of attacks.

Soon falling back down, Teresa rushed over to the opponent, and took force field energy into her left hand, making it into some kind of rounded blade protruding from her fist. Then, she reeled the new axe blade backwards, and while the enemy was still in midair, cut straight through him, slicing across his shoulder to his abdominals in a splicing, diagonal scarring. Blood spilled everywhere, enough for a massacre, enough for the massacre that she had to watch the aftermath of. The opponent gave a sickening, weak cry as he fell to the floor, and as blood seemed to float to Teresa's confident, not unfinished expression. There was more she had to do. Oh, so much more that she had in mind, you couldn't believe it.


	87. Chapter 87

Having fallen to the floor with an ornamental thud, the red-striped opponent weakly stumbled to his feet. He rose unsurely, indifferently as his white apparition clothes soaked with blood and sopped with a sick red. The mask's curvy, exposing grin never turned upside-down, refusing to accept pain, refusing to accept defeat. A slouched, inhuman back brought arms limp at its sides, dangling three or four lassos of rusty chains dragging to the floor heavily in a loafing snore. Their shafted bodies nicked each other, shouldering each other for a juicy gossip that could drown anyone who had held it inside their mouths long enough, forcing their lips to separate and tell.

Daniel watched in awe and fear. He feared of what condition this fight might put Teresa in, considering that she had not done much fighting over the week they had spent there. She had always remained quiet, and Daniel had never realized that she had felt this way for so long. However, the awe consumed him, the awe of her skill in her first fight that Daniel had watched over. The crack in one of his lens seemed to widen in the cold. The silvery, tiny and stretched fingers became moist within seconds. Teresa… Daniel thought to himself in awe as he found his inability to use his limbs. They were shaking inside with fear, trembling as if resisting being petrified. Those eyes, he thought to himself. She must be able to see and attack him physically with those eyes. Just what are they? Daniel wondered curiously.

"I'll protect those relationships with my life!" Teresa cried out, almost screaming in a fury of anger, a confident yell. The opponent slowly remained on his feet, the large wound slashed across his body not even making a priority in his conscience.

His wide smile never wore off, that pale, ghastly mask hiding all his features and emotions. Teresa felt like ripping that mask right off his glued face and tearing it into pieces, as well as the rest of the body. Newly made pale eyes like silver, full moons glimmered in the mist. Five sided stars embedded in them seemed to emit its hidden prowess. The sickly feeling finally left her. "So it seems you were able to put a scratch on me after all," the long-life rival muttered in a careless voice, as if acting like the large cut was of no importance.

Teresa's teeth ground harder, only loosening for a few seconds after to conceive and liberate words, hateful words, confident words. "It's not just a scratch," Teresa pointed out bluntly. Her point was easily made.

The opponent sneered. "It'll be the last one you make," he threatened. His voice seemed to croak evilly as he became a blur once again, racing across the grassy field, dragging dust and dangling, thin heads with it. Teresa knew he was approaching, and she saw his every movement. And she enjoyed it.

"Come!" Teresa took the challenge. Her evanescent white eyes twinkled as they narrowed meanly, readily. She, too, became a rush herself. The two opposing blurs came at each other, pumping hot blood through anticipating audience's body with tension packed organs, veins becoming plugs and wires of anxiety. As the two rushes of invisible, trailing colors met, they clashed horridly, both of them stopping at once in the middle. Teresa caught the ghost's thumping fist's wrist in her own. Half Spirit energy burst from the contact, releasing into the air with a bright, ominous purple glow. It seemed to create an enthusiastic aura around them, a background of fight. Strands of hair began to defy gravity as fingers between wrists threatened with tightness. Streaks of purple tresses whipped the air as violet outlined them with force, fingers attacking the mist, threatening them, commanding them, threatening them to leave them be.

Bones cracked from a hateful grudge, a defeat frown grown and blossomed onto the phantom's garden face. Teeth began to grind beneath a white mask traced with purple. Pentacle eyes narrowed. Another punch from the other arm came forward to test its defiance. Another skillful hand blocked with an open palm. More violet energy spurt out, glowing increasingly like a rage waiting to burst. Telekinesis rates were high in the air. Grudges from deep within began to fire up and shoot from the limbs. The frown beneath the white, sinful mask opened wide into a muffled, shocked cry, unheard by society, unwanted by society. Tension was blocked and overtaken by awe, a powerful, shining awe that begged and pleaded to be noticed.

Teresa's death waiting eyes needled against each other with their sharp, pointy tips, pricking each other in hate. The whiteness glowed with a background of purple, a background of power that was ready to release and kill. The violet aura churned and churned and grew bigger; hair and clothes from both sides began to flutter and whip against each other in a growing psychosis. "Die!" Teresa's cry echoed as the purple overtook both sides and exploded in a great burst, sending crazy volcanic eruptions of smoke and dust into the air, fattening the mist with gray. The loud quake plummeted the ground, shaking against the two Minors' spots. Kenneth was still staring into blank space – an eternal petrifying he had caught himself in. Daniel just stared, staring into blank space as well, however, not just staring, but staring in awe.

The smoke erupted above the mist, more powerful than it, more confident than it. Teresa's body tumbled out of the rising smoke, trailing streaks of dust with her, clinging fingers of defeat. She coughed as her rotation stopped. She weakly brought herself to her feet as Daniel muttered, speechless. "Teresa!" he found his words as he brought her weakened state into his arms, feeling her body shake as her lips exhaled strong, choked coughs of inhaled dust. Her feet seemed to crumble towards her upper legs. Her arms held each other as she let out another exasperated hack of sick dirt. "Are you all right?" Daniel asked, emerald eyes full of worry.

"Yeah," Teresa replied to relieve the peridot anxieties. Her voice was choked, but she was getting it adjusted. Her arms shivered against her sides for comfort, to make sure of herself that she was indeed alive. "It's over," she declared from a healing voice. The redhead's face nodded in conclusion. Dust cooled the tension. The mist released. And suddenly, Kenneth dropped to his knees, exhaling a big breath of release, a sense of over and repair filling the new air. Daniel and Teresa watched the mist fade away into invisible wisps, translucent blue into transparent white. They watched it wash away by the invisible waves, and watched – watched as the sunlight began to return brightly into their patiently waiting eyes.

PoVS

"Die!" Eric's enemy cried out as he swung the axe deep into his back. His anticipating smile and eyes seemed almost happy as he slung the axe across the air. Eric turned his face at the last second, catching the enemy right behind him with a dark right eye, a threatening glare – one of indifference of what happened. Walter remained just feet away, watching with nervous marks stretching through him in panic, eyes wide open in a wait of what happened. Time seemed to slow, taking away all the thoughts of the victims, predators, all of them. Freezing itself in an isolation of solitaire, only to speak and work for itself. Yes, time took away everything – until it was freed magically in just a few moments, if you could even have moments with the absence of time.

Blood squirted through the air horridly as a bone-metal crack vibrated the air, streaming out in an invisible bullet to the ear. Nothing was seen. Nothing was heard. Walter's eyes widened horridly, broadening to an inhuman stretch. Mark's body began to stir at the knees of a certain, shadowy tree. His eyes slowly opened themselves, the back of his head suddenly aching with a huge, backward migraine. It was sore and blistered and aching and all kinds of other pain as he slowly made an extreme effort to support himself. It seemed to be the hardest thing he had ever had to do. It took him a while to realize just where he was and what place in time he had caught himself in, but when he finally did, he blinked in confusion, eyes stretching outward like the radiation of an atomic bomb. His teeth froze, skin beneath clothes extremely hot it could make one sweat, unclothed skin cool and calm from the comforting shade of the tree. What? he asked himself, a bit less confused than before. His body became frostbitten with surprise and shock, and dazzle.

Eric, the real victim, who should be filled with even more shock and surprise, which he was, stared behind him with all effort this time, using both eyes to make sure what he was seeing wasn't a mirage. His face froze, as if he had been injected by wrinkle-ridding needles. His eyes were wider than anyone else's, not quite comical but rather not natural, either. They were completely indescribable, his whole expression and position unable to be deciphered. "Really…" a new, yet familiar voice sounded. The voice widened more faces. "How much longer will I have to look after you guys?" a voice said calmly.

Taking another point of view, you could see that what Eric was staring at was not an axe struck through his back. It was not a wound that was deeply cut by the teeth of an axe that he stared at. No, this was not something horrible he was staring at. It was not shocking and surprising because of the terribleness of it. It was astonishing and face-widening for the sole purpose of the sudden presence – a sign of good, and a sign of relief. For what he stared at was a brown-headed Fire Council, eyes blazing with passionate fire, standing right between Eric's comfortable, frozen walk position and the enemy's striking pose. He held the axe's teeth in his hand, fingers tightly gripping around the scribbled blade to ensure imprisonment. A slit kind of cut leaked careless blood onto the plate and down the palm of his tanned hand. Brown confident eyes stared back at shocked ones, Eric's ones. A smile from the council called for a smile back.

"Who…who are you?" the opponent asked, voice croaky and unsteady. His eyes were broad as well, broad as a body-builder's shoulders. Teeth were lightly ground against each other, no use for a gritting with the nonexistence of hate or grudge. The Fire Council quickly turned to the opponent's new voice and swiftly changed his friendly, smiling stare into a mean, narrowed one. It gave a shot of petrifying feeling inside the antagonist. He gasped as he wanted to back away, but his grip on the blade prevented any of that.

"Someone who cares," Hanabikai snapped at the foe's question, his brown, protective eyes narrowing even more. He shifted his position, rising fear inside the foe's heart. It was easy to say that the foe sensed the amount of energy and experience differentiating from him and his new enemy. However, he was not quick enough to escape his attack. Hanabikai's foot dragged behind the other one in ease as he made his available hand fill with his Free Spirit's energy, barely tapping the umbilical part of his body. The touch of a council made the foe pull back, but it was too late. The fingers moved ever so slightly, as if spinning delicate webs around dark, murky corners of the night sky. Then, with a huge burst, flames blistered from the hand and sent the discolored body flying. The fiend was knocked against a tree, dragged by a huge fireball of red and orange flames. His limbs flew limply as they dragged along with the amazing hit that burned against his body like hissing snakes, digging into his chest and legs and arms with venomous crunches. His back hit the body of a tree, rustling its head in disappointment. The fire remained on his chest, never giving up, crawling with dreadful fingers to the tree's body as well, taking it and making it into a cross of blazing crucifixion, that one tree set ablaze with bonfire despaired, surprised screams echoing from the crackling of the flames, a witch's cry.

A-Amazing, Eric thought, speechless, barely able to create a steady thought. "Your goals end here," Hanabikai declared as he clapped his hands together. He was soon set ablaze with crazy, bonfire energy of his inner Free Spirit, showing much, much more quantities of energy at its first released level than Half Spirits did. Suddenly, as a reaction, the fire from that one tree seemed to bind the body with it, a destiny bonding as the fire spread to other trees in the forest, setting those bodies ablaze as well, trying to take all of them down in rejoiced despair. The flames suddenly stopped cracking for a half-second, and for the last bit, exploded wildly, the bonfire taking itself out in suicide, blowing up in a gigantic burst of the forest, flames cracking no longer. The red and orange imploded the trees, all the wood, bushes, ground, dirt, leaves and flowers gone and blown to bits – especially that one "human" body along with it. Black smoke clouded the forest as the sounds of explosion filled the air, plugging in eardrums with extreme noise and uproarious cries. The sound of flaming cinder began to rise and replace the hissing of red-orange and yellow flames. "So…" Hanabikai turned away from the dying smoke and flames to Eric. The Fire Minor seemed threatened and backed up nervously, not knowing what to expect. Hanabikai grinned happily and closed his eyes in rejoice. "Haven't seen you in a while," he stated nostalgically.

PoVS

Tsukansu paced the dark halls of the Outer World. Webs and webs of darkness fingered sticky, outstretched fingers of green from corner to corner. Orange walls made effortless walls of disgust, caked with dark and shadow, a disgusting, unwashed filth. His brown triangle of hair dangled down the left side of his face as his straight back remained the way it was in confidence. One side of his face remained in shadow, as if it had something to hide, something in the past worth putting away in a box of secretion deep within his inner thoughts, something even the Council did not know of. His Geta slippers clicked against the plaster grounds, the thin, shafted hallways seeming to close in with the absence of fresh air. Dizzy heads were ignored with bliss. Shadows crawled everywhere, dominating every single inch it could, secretly and greedily, when the council members weren't watching. Oh, how the darkness mocked the twelve most "powerful" beings in the world! How they took advantage of these twelve, intelligent minds, able to spy and sneak away at their hidden task, their slowly processing job. Soon, they would take over everything – yet not soon enough.

"So, are you not the least bit worried?" a voice rang, one different than that of Tsukansu's. You'd think the Water Council would have been shocked to hear another voice, however he recognized this clearly, and realized there was no need to be scared. The brown-haired Council stopped the slight clicking of his wooden shoes stopping their twittering hum of the end of the week. His flustered hair stopped in its tracks. All movement wore out, like an unusable battery. The water council sighed in tediousness.

"Hibiyomi," Tsukansu cried out, turning to his backside and looking past into the shadows. He knew he was there. He could sense his presence, his scent. It was exposed everywhere behind him. This was the kind of person his friend was. Always sneaking up on others and talking as if they knew he had been there the whole time. Tsukansu listened to his voice's echo through the hallway before speaking again. He did not like interrupting other things. Even if they were as minor as an echo of a voice through a very, very short hall. "Why are you always spying?" Tsukansu asked, finally getting out his one thought that he had held for many or so years.

"Answer the question," the hidden Shadow Council demanded. His voice was commanding and blunt as ever. He was always so straightforward. His presence remained in the shadows, unhidden, unseen, the way he liked it. It was not for his face being so distorted and unsightly, yet, he liked being sneaky. It gave him a sense of gambit, a sense of advantage and good commonwealth – for all those that maintained him, of course.

Tsukansu sighed once more. He closed his eyes and pretended to think. There was a long, eerie pause. Nothing was heard but a slight hum of scheming darkness and plotting silence. "No, I'm not a worrywart," Tsukansu implied something in his retort.

"I see," Hibiyomi's secretive voice remained. "But, however, if they come back as if they were -"

He was suddenly cut off by Tsukansu's louder, more meaningful voice. "Enough," he demanded of the Shadow Council for once. Hibiyomi had just now lost his sense of gambit. Narrow eyes were easily perceived, even through the darkness. Voices continued to echo. Darkness continued to plot against society and its ways of the world. "It's been years. It's time to let go, don't you think?" Tsukansu asked, piquing an interest in the question inside him and surprisingly, Hibiyomi.

Hibiyomi did not answer. Nor did he want to. It was like he didn't want to admit it, or he didn't have an answer. Slowly, the shadowed Council paced outside of the blanket of shadows, and slowly revealed his face, half of it brightened by the reflective orange walls. His one discovered eye stared blankly and meanly, as if an intent to kill, a death glare. Then, the glare closed in solemnity, emotions calming. Tsukansu calmed more as well, closing his eyes in a trailing solemnity. Then, slowly, he resumed his pace through the forest, shoes clicking past the corner of the hall and leaving the Shadow Council alone, half blanketed by darkness, alone to his thoughts and his thoughts only.

PoVS

Slowly, slits of light began to show. Consciousness drifted back into the mind, flowing slowly like blood, blood you couldn't see, blood that would never, ever show in wounds that spread your body like jelly on peanut butter, or vice-versa, if you preferred. The slits widened, yellow fingers pushing away eyelid walls of concealment and rest. Consciousness finally returned, a hundred percent back to normal. He was finally awake, and his readied thoughts began to organize themselves slowly, very, very slowly, as if cautiously, ready to break apart like a vertical set jigsaw puzzle with thin, thin bodies, slowly building up into succession, fragile to even the slightest movement, like a finger's touch to the ground miles away. "W-What happened?" Rick asked as he quickly sat up. The sudden feeling of being awake reminded him of where he was. He hadn't even realized that he had been sleeping!

"Don't worry yourself," a new voice suddenly answered him, an unexpected one at that, too. Rick suddenly turned his head, catching a glimpse of Lance, who stood comfortably against the body of a prickly tree. One foot lay against its body, knee protruding like a missile ready for fire. His eyes were closed in a sleepy happiness, crinkled in hidden joy. Arms crossed each other as thoughts raced through his mind, as well as words through his tongue. His cheeks were to burst any second now.

'Lance-san!" Rick formally addressed his silver-haired teammate. The blonde boy found himself sitting on the floor, skin beneath clothes hiding under warmth, hot, drowsy warmth. No covers lay over the naked parts of his body, like his face and feet, which remained cold with the dying afternoon. Slowly, a deep thought began to form in the corners of his mind, somehow refusing to meet at the center. None of the four pieces approached the middle first, and therefore, the thought was never made. Broken shards remained broken, unhappy that they were isolated from the pieces that completed each other.

"Marissa's fine," Lance joined the four shards of thought together. He could tell what Rick was thinking, even in the deepest corners of his mind, from just the look on his face. Oh, the wonders his eye for detail did for him! It was his one power before molding and making metal! "She's making the fire," he said casually.

"Fire?" Rick asked, as if he had never heard the word in his life. It took him a while for his mind and body to adjust to the new weather conditions he found himself in.

"Yeah, it's evening. We won the fight, buddy," Lance used a friendly address jokingly. His eyes were as calm as ever. No tension filled his body, and his personality was back to normal. Stress was washed and wished away.

"Oh, I see," Rick muttered quietly. He turned back to his own hands and legs, watching them, examining them as if sleuthing them for something more, something else that he knew they hid from his mind. "But…" he began. A finger trailed to the slash on his chest. It stung him and caused him to wince when he fingered it. He was forced to take a sharp breath as he brought his fingers down, leaving the bandaged wound alone. His eyes began to depress.

"Why did you do it?" Lance suddenly asked, calm. Rick gave a widened, curious glance. It was as if he forgot other words of English other than his own, which, evidentially, made no sense. "Why did you just jump in front of Marissa? Why did you take the hit for her?" Lance blurted out his thoughts from the past few hours in just a few seconds at once. Rick sighed. He began to think, s4earching the deep bottoms of his mind for the answer, the truth, honest bottoms of his mind, and not the fake tears that were shed upon them from the past.

"I don't know," he muttered, coming up with nothing. His glance began to fix on his legs again, begging them for more even though they solely knew that they held no secrets. The feeling of just waking up did a lot to the mind, it sure did. "It was instinct, I guess," he said, pulling a random note from the honest bag of feelings inside him. The bag seemed to rustle, shaking its head in disappointment. Rick's eyes seemed shamed. Lance seemed to stir, seeming to fix unevenly, uneasily. Rick got up to his feet as he spotted a bright flicker of red and orange from far away. The thick scent of medicine filled the air, medicine that Lance had made to help cure Rick's cut with the herbs found in the forest. The coldness brushed against him as he stood up straight, finding it somewhat hard.

'Don't move around too much," Lance warned as Rick began to start away, all ready much past Lance, yet not far away enough. Rick didn't look back. His feet stopped in their tracks, waiting patiently for Lance's last words. "You'll just widen the wound I worked so hard to help heal."

Rick made no signs of agreement. No nods, no words, no shakes. He just resumed walking, taking his words into consideration, and then finally, into acknowledgment. His steps were unsteady as he walked toward the gated lake, looking towards the murky, olivine waters far away. And as he walked unstably with weak, adjusting feet, Lance watched, staring at his efforts all the way, thinking a deep thought he couldn't very well interpret on his own.


	88. Chapter 88

"I see, so you came early," Mark pointed out as Hanabikai helped to bring him to his feet. Hot sun fell to his blazed shoulders. It was finally beginning to set, and the clouds began to tint with orange, tainted with purple. Mark dusted his clothes, clouds of brown and gray eating at his hands, brushed away, unwanted. Hanabikai's grip loosened on his weighted arm. Those osmium weights were just too much, Hanabikai figured. He shouldn't have been surprised. Kanadou was in to the "no-mercy" style of training. Mark didn't seem to mind, either.

"Yeah," Hanabikai answered honestly and proudly. "I'm surprised you survived so long. I suppose you don't have many major wounds at all?" The team exchanged second's worth glares as they stood before the taller, more adult-like council, they shook their heads. Hanabikai seemed pleased. He nodded in satisfaction, content with a new, fresh feeling. Being in the Swamp of Mystery brought back memories, good and bad. So… Hanabikai thought, keeping a secretive, sneaky sense in his head. He stared to Walter, who seemed to be unnoticed of the Council's presence. He crumbled to a comfortable sitting position, and folded his legs, closing his eyes gracefully as if praying, meditating. Strained and tired hands lay on respective knees, taking their finally deserved rest. Fingers resisted movement. This is him… the Fire Council kept a lock on him with his brown, worrisome eyes. He swallowed hard, feeling an inner panic inside him grow from hundreds of years ago, beginning to churn and blister itself alive again. It fingered inside him, demanding an escape from its restrained prison. Hanabikai did not obey, despite his fear for this – this feeling that he thought he'd never have to experience again. If only White Cloak didn't open the scrolls for who knows why, Hanabikai thought nervously.

Walter… Hanabikai's thoughts continued. The Fire Council seemed strained. Eric gave him a suspicious look; a triangle of stares ending at Walter's closed lids. I can tell he has the same eyes as Tsukansu had. I feel rather…weird around him; it's like I'm caught up in Déjà vu, the Fire Council thought in a fearful strain. He almost looks exactly like him. Then we have this guy… The council shifted his stare to Eric. He caught his glance, and the Fire Minor did not hide. He kept his gaze going, as if searching deep into Hanabikai's eyes, knowing that he had a problem with something almost, wanting to take it, grasp it, feel of it and change it. They exchanged stares for a long time, Eric's dark, brown eyes staring right back into another set of dark, brown eyes, almost washing away the memory of the council's worries. It began to become hard to form thoughts correctly. Is this guy… the splitting image of me as well? Hanabikai wondered, interest piqued. There were some differentiating similarities, but the council couldn't quite put his finger on the answer.

Suddenly, Eric took away his stare, retreating his dark, protective eyes as he began to head right past Hanabikai. This surprised the council, causing him to give Eric a hard, watchful leering as he approached him. "Come," Eric suddenly said, no at Hanabikai's shoulders. They were facing opposite directions, as if caught up in a drama. Eric did not even look at his counterpart, while his counterpart tried to do the exact opposite, too self-conscious to turn his head. The Fire Minor's voice seemed all business. "I have something to ask you," he explained. Hanabikai gulped as Eric began walking again, almost forcing him to follow.

Walter eyes suddenly burst open in a calm manner, watching the two Fire Elements that fit together like a puzzle walk away, slowly creating distance and making themselves into tiny, tiny dots, unreachable by society like they have always been. The Water Minor gave a suspicious glare. Mark seemed lost.

Moments later, birds fluttered above, planning to reach the sun with their confident, brownish wings. They chirped and twittered at each other in competition, broad wings showing their beautiful prowess, their stunning feathers. Clouds neared them, ready to drop like a bomb on them, white fingers rowing the paddles of the puffy sailboat in the azure, redirected sea, making the ship trail slowly by, calm as the invisible sea that cradled along with it. How leisurely was their movement, how odd were their shapes.

Forest upon foresting trees surrounded the two Fire Elements, as if wanting to play ring around the rosy, with them, combined, as the rosy. Wind and light sifted through their crooked limbs, cragged hands of needless greed. They had nothing to gain, nothing to lose but their own stable, stationary lives. Shadows with punctured specks of light fell upon their faces, shaping the gray darkness into a bushy-like favor, masking their bodies with a chameleon-like camouflage, a new skin tone discovered. "What is it?" Hanabikai asked as he trailed slowly behind Eric, the two continuing to pace the forest. The specks of light seemed to move on their bodies as they moved along the growing grass, changing their features so quickly and noticeably. "We've walked enough," Hanabikai demanded pause. Eric followed indifferently.

The Fire Minor slowly turned and shot a narrowed glare at Hanabikai, showing nothing but seriousness. He did not care how much powerful he was than him; it seemed as if he was ready to rip the council to pieces, arms crossed fractiously in front of his broad chest. Clothes wrinkled. "What does the Water Element have to do with a silver energy?" Eric spat out quickly.

"Silver energy?" Hanabikai seemed confused. "What're you talking about?" His voice seemed up and down all of a sudden, as if it were hiding something he didn't even know about, the owner of his own voice!

"Walter…" Eric began, stating the Water Minor's name. His eyes trailed to the side diagonally, watching grass blades cool against the wind, swaying lightly in an unnoticed, unpaid hula. They acted as their own grass skirts, heads as arms and body as feet. How cool they thought they were. Hanabikai filled with even more astonishment, puzzlement filling him and showing through his fragile eyes. A tiny suspicion flickered inside him, unnoticed. "He cut off an opponent's arm with this blade that traced his arms with silver energy," Eric explained.

The flickering suspicion became a bonfire of light, cracking the idea-filled light bulb and replacing it with raging, untamed, burning thoughts of memory passion. No way… Hanabikai thought in his mind, catching himself speechless as his eyes began to peer into space, as if something inside there was much more of interest and pique than the current situation. How untrue this was.

"It was glowing all over him sometimes and –" Eric's words were suddenly cut off. A knife of words stopped his mouth short, slicing, threatening at his tongue with glimmering, meaningful spoken letters. Letters that could not have been interpreted easily to the human ears and mind process.

"Enough," Hanabikai stopped him short. Boy, how this invisible, glimmering knife of words worked! How much of awe it put into one's imagination! Amazing, truly amazing was it. "It was nothing," the council began. Eric was the one this time to change his features into a dazzle. Eyes crinkled in confusion, confounded by what was really going on. Lips lost steady track of the conversation and began to quiver with emotionless feelings – a nervous habit of some sort? No, it was not. "You're seeing things, Eric." Hanabikai turned quickly in disregard, footsteps beginning to crunch the young knives of grass once more. Eric watched his steady, unconfused back as the robes fluttered with a resistant, blocking wind. Fingers of breezes seemed to motion for Hanabikai back to his Minor Counterpart, but he, being more ignorant, simply brushed it off as a friendly caress of skin.

No way, the Fire Council thought as he walked towards the brighter area of sunlight. Specks of the dying halo in the sky strolled over every aspect of his skin and clothes. They friendlily danced on him like joyous, cheerful jubilation; distorted bodies of luminary energy deleted their unsightly selves from their recollection for once. There's no way that what Eric is talking about could be… Hanabikai refused to complete the thought and make it whole, refused to give it power. "Eric," he called out to his Minor Counterpart, pausing his crunching slippers for just a few seconds. The nature seemed to frown and mourn, grieving at the loss of snapping slipper noise. Dreaded silence seemed to spill everywhere. Voices began to echo.

"What?" the eighteen year old teenager asked, ready to answer anything for just a sliver of information. He paid close attention, arms stilled folded against his body, eyes still cross yet piqued with increasing interest. A cool wind nestled by as a long pause created distance between them.

"I'm counting on you," Hanabikai suddenly spoke. Eric seemed to be shocked at the unexpected choice of words. He pulled back, muscles beginning to lose their tense locks. Cross eyes began to loosen their narrow points, dulling them purposely. Tight arms softened, a large exhale of somewhat relief and somewhat indifference blew out in long-waited escape, long-deserved liberation. Hanabikai quickly resumed his walking, and slowly the nature around him began to cheer again, cheering at the fresh, powerful noise made by a powerful person, feeling welcomed and honored to have such a being in their forest's prowess. For once, it seemed happy. Eric slowly began to realize that Hanabikai had left his thoughts even more scrambled and scattered than ever. He sighed in tediousness. The talk had done nothing for Eric, but had done a lot for Hanabikai, the exact opposite of what was expected to happen. Fingers of thick trees tried to bow and touch the presence of Hanabikai, wanting to make sure that this was, indeed, not a mirage. Desperate hands failed. Apathetic, unmoved touches had no intention of doing so in the first place. Wind rustled, light pushes against skin, not strong enough to knock down this Council. I know it's not a really bad sign, but… Hanabikai thought. It must mean something, he figured. Eric would soon follow him through the forest.

PoVS

Derek, Kawari, Dylan and Zack sat around in a squared circle. They seemed to wait patiently, waiting for the sun to set, waiting for something new and fresh to approach them. Sighs went around from boredom. Derek found himself completed indifferent. Kawari hid emotions behind his full-of-care eyes. Zack was free to express anything, while Dylan seemed tightly tense, timid and afraid of something. This is how they remained for long, long hours.

Unexpectedly, Kawari's ear twitched; his fingers lightly tapped the ground. Rustling took place in the bushes many feet behind them. Quickly, his eyes moved to the corner of their lids, and just as swiftly, he brought himself to his feet. He made a stretching groan as he picked and replaced his things. Eyes began to lift and stare up at him, ready to listen to him as he seemed to call for attention without words and just one action. The eyes all seemed to hope for an idea of fun from the blue-haired teenager. "I should get going. I have to move," Kawari explained suddenly. Shocked faces went all around, mostly showing on Zack.

It was easy to tell that he would be the first to make a complaint. "What?" Zack cried out in rejection. "What do you mean?" he demanded seriously. His loud voice caused Derek to wince. Dylan stared up at Kawari respectively, eyes crinkled and sad, as if ready to cry, yet, in reality, not really.

"I have to get moving," Kawari repeated in different word choices. His voice was cross and straightforward. It somehow surprised Zack, causing him to become more serious as well, more focused, more confident and determined to convince Kawari to stay. However, these feelings remained much too far away from Zack's existing emotion. "People are after me," Kawari informed.

"But…!" Zack began to protest. He was about to get up on his feet and persuade Kawari to sit back down. His eyes began to narrow in growing confidence.

"Zack…" Dylan called out to his teammate. His eyes were crinkling at him now, and the Wind Minor noticed, causing his eyes to crinkle as well. His expected uproarious feelings calmed, as if a sandstorm finally subsiding in the hot, set ablaze deserts. Zack looked for Derek's reaction, and found it, watching a black-haired boy shake his head respectively, no eye contact. Zack seemed to sigh depressively on the inside.

"Okay, but…" the Wind Minor looked back to Kawari. He watched his blue hair fluster with the swaying wind. His clothes seemed ready to move, calling out to the wearer, beckoning him to get running all ready, to escape from something much, much overrated! Zack slowly brought his right hand to his face and took the other one to tear off the strip of fabric on his ring finger. It slid off easily like a ring, the white tasseled cloth slipping irresistibly. The kanji symbol of wind was portrayed shortly on the middle of it, a sign of his Base Minor element. The clear, sinless fabric seemed tainted with nothing but dusty air. How powerful, how successful it seemed from face value. It was almost speechless, mind blowing. Kawari seemed confused. Slowly, the Wind Minor took his other hand and tore off a long end of the ribbon-like cloth. The tolerant rip sent an attention-grabbing noise through the air. All eyes were hard on him as Zack's eyes remained at the pure, angelic cloth. "Here," Zack put out his hand delicately. In it held the torn fabric end, swaying in the air at its own, new ends.

Kawari gave a hard, suspicious and confused stare. "As a memory," Zack explained. Kawari's puzzlement faded and washed away. He smiled easily, and brought his hand out as well. Slowly, time handed the white, silky fabric into new hands. Zack tied back the rest of the cloth to his ring finger. "Are you sure you have to go?" Zack muttered sadly.

"Yes," the blue haired boy repeated formally. Zack remained displeased. Kawari sighed, and smiled a crooked smile, trying to cheer the brown-haired boy up. "Thank you, Zack-san," he showed his gratitude as he stuffed the strip into his pockets uneasily, as if it were no big deal. "It was nice meeting you guys," he explained. Dylan nodded and smiled. Derek remained indifferent, eyes still narrow and protective of what hid inside. "Bye," Kawari paid his farewell thoughts a thank you as he started for the trees far, far away. Vast acres of green and brown and shadow remained at his new road as he waved somewhat happily, soon disappearing into the shadows. Now, only the Minors remained.

"It's sad," Zack muttered, still displeased.

"Yeah," Dylan answered back. Derek still remained silent. Just what was he so quiet for?

Suddenly, a metal creaking caught the attention of the Minors, and brought their attentive eyes to the gate. The middle seemed to split, and creak open ever so slightly, separated walls becoming sides. They moaned eerily and creepily, a rusty grieving of despair given from their metallic ribs, glimmering off faint sunlight as they gave access to the outer world. Temptation filled the minds of the majority of the team. Of course, Derek remained outside of this group, however, he continued to watch those gates with suspicion either way.

"Hey!" a familiar sound boomed.

"No way!" Zack cried out, eyes broadening in shock.

Eyebrows began to rise. Sunlight began to flicker even more slightly. Perspiration was finally ignored! "Madasora-sama!" Zack cried out with his loudest tone. Its volume was not known to the human world. All three stared at the gate in their different emotional poses as they watched the last bits of sunlight shine their brightest crowd upon the entrance of the fluttering clothes, the tobacco pipe and the twittering, annoying bird of the Wind Council, Madasora. His crooked smile played with the tobacco pipe that was tainted with ash, its elephant mouth blowing out as much white-gray smoke as it could, its curved horn like a finger digging deep into the Council's teeth, ready to taint them in a yellow, moldy grudge.

"Ah, it's been a while hasn't it?" Madasora shouted just as loudly from his tobacco-filled breath. Now Dylan and Derek knew why the wind Minor and wind Council were so similar. Madasora's hands were calmly stuffed inside his pant's mouths, greedy mouths of hunger and mutilation, forever remaining unfed until now. Clothes fluttered with an uncontrolled wind of lost interest. Eyes crinkled happily and cheerfully, as if he had been stuck in this hellhole-Swamp of Mystery for a week, and the gates had just opened for him. Minasan, the bird of species nostalgia twittered and danced on the Council's proud and modest shoulder, dancing a happy dance with one, altering foot. Its whitish beak remained open in a jubilee hunger, a tiny, diamonded black hole of wanted feed. Its pale, tended wings fluttered about, tickling Madasora's cheek ever so slightly.

"Yes we can go home!" Zack shouted in jubilation. His eyes crinkled in a happiness that would last centuries as his loud voice began to irritate Derek. The black-haired boy's eyes began to narrow behind closed, annoyed, tanned lids. A tedious palm supported his perfect head.

"Settle down," Madasora demanded. The council suddenly appeared at their area, away from the open gates and finally right in front of them. So fast was his speed, the most agile of all councils! Not even Lance's detail-catching eye could figure out his trick for doing so. A long burst of air came as his presence came to. The bird seemed to become nauseated from the sudden decision of a rush. Madasora did not notice. "It's been a long time, eh, Derek-kun?" he asked as he nodded to Zack in acknowledgment and turned to the black haired Minor sitting irritably on the ground, legs crossed with each other. The sun seemed to linger on the backside of his body.

Derek nodded in further indifference. "Yeah," he muttered, finally opening his eyes and revealing his secretive dark, dark brown eyes that they were almost black. One could swear upon it.

"Dylan-san," Madasora called for the green-eyed Minor. He nodded quickly and cooperatively, flashing a wide smile, unable to help it from spreading across his face like peanut butter on bread, except with much more ease. "I hope Zack hasn't been too much of an idiot for the past six days and a half," Madasora wished as he snickered secretly behind closed lips that couldn't help but force a smile. Zack seemed hurt.

"Whaaaaaaat?" he moaned loudly and comically, his face going ten times its size and all chibi-like. How funny were moments like these, really? They were, in fact, hilarious! Madasora's bird chirped and chirped and chirped, laughing over and over again at the thought to be stupidity of the Wind Minor. Zack continued to seem sad.

Derek seemed to want to make a comment, but somehow, for some reason, stopped himself. His face slouched back to his supporting hand. His wrist began to sore. "Why am I always the one that gets picked on?" Zack whine unhappily. His child-like complaints annoyed the hell out of most people.

"Zack-san…!" Dylan called out to the brown-haired Minor scornfully from his place on the floor. The Wind Minor sighed. I'll miss that Kawari guy, Zack thought as he cried humorously. Dylan couldn't help but burst out a short laugh, stopping himself short as the explosion caused an attention calling.

From far away behind trees and trees and trees, Kawari watched. His back lay against the splintered body, tall enough to reach the sky. His no longer innocent eyes stared narrowly back at the three Minors and the Council come to pick them up, readying to bring them out at any moment. So they've all ready come, he noticed. No matter. I have no use for them any longer, Kawari thought in a serious tone as he turned away. His blue hair seemed to prick the cool, forest-stench air as his whole body began to hiss wildly, hiss like they had their own, snaky mouths of threat, of danger and hell as his own teenage skin began to spill out white smoke into the air above, unnoticed by the Minors that were so, so far away. And so, so naïve.


	89. Chapter 89

Marissa watched the golden stain of light splash against the body of water. It shimmered, shaking as if from the artic cold, limbs unstable and horribly distorted, a pool of confusion. Warm streams of light and heat began to die at the back of her neck, trickling slowly away from her like a sifting, slow-set wave. Light winds caused currents to lightly tap at her ankles, the murky green waters freezing the rusty fingers of the gate faraway, black metal trembling at its presence. Breezes fingered her hair playfully, toying with it as if she didn't mind. The uncomfortable prickling of the cragged rock she sat on remain unchanged, thorny edges poking into her skin like knives of discipline. Her eyes were sadly cross, her one unclothed arm freezing in the dying afternoon.

Her eyes began to dye a certain orange in their azure innocence as they watched the restless golden light dance about before her, wanting to entertain her, wanting to turn her saddened feelings over like a frying pan did to a pancake. Hearing light, weak steps behind her, Marissa did not seem to notice. No, it was more like, she didn't want to notice. The steps neared, crunching grass into crooked fingers, pointing, accusing towards the never-working sound Minor. She didn't breathe. She didn't think. She didn't move. All she did was stare, and feel sad. That was all.

"You know, you didn't have to jump in front of me," Marissa muttered to pull the footsteps to a halt. A shadow fell over her and replaced the least comfy feeling of sunlight on her. Emptiness began to take place. The shadow was unmoving, unfeeling of her, blank, with no answer. Marissa continued her non-breathing, unthinking status. Her skin was beginning to get as cold as ice, hidden warmth beneath that blanket of frosty outer shell. However, she did not know of this warmth that so sneakily hid itself into secretion beneath her. So, she had nothing to look forward to.

"But," a voice right behind her began. She was somewhat surprised of the fact of how close the voice seemed to be, of how near the shadow was, the presence. "I wanted to," Rick's familiar voice explained. His voice seemed unsure, indecisive. Marissa felt like sighing, however, she had no air to exhale. "I felt obliged to. If anything happened to you, then -" Rick was suddenly cut off. It shocked him, causing him to somewhat back up.

"Then where does that leave me?" Marissa demanded loudly, as loudly as she meant it to be. Light breezes became tense ones, anxiously playing with her golden, brazen strands of hair, washing away their innocence more and more as the hands of the clock swayed impatiently past. Rick found himself speechless, voice lost. "What does that make me, huh?" she demanded once more, louder this time with further intention. Rick found himself even more speechless now, if possible. "A precious treasure that just needs to be watched after every second of my life? Am I an urn? Do I hold something of importance worth protecting?!"

"Marissa…" was all Rick could find in himself to say. Why was it so hard to speak?

"No…" Marissa stopped him right then and there. "What am I of use for? What do I provide all ready that makes me so worthwhile protecting?" she asked. Total, complete silence. She had her answer. "Nothing," she repeated the words of the gossiping winds. "Nothing at all. Nothing!" she had to say over and over again, louder and louder each time. The words seemed to seep into Rick's mind slowly and carefully, taking them all in as if they themselves were a fragile urn ready to break and fall apart any second. His goldenrod eyes began to broaden in realization. "The weeks and months we've been Minors…. Nothing!" she said once more. Marissa clenched her fist at the boulder's side. The stony edges scraped against her soft, delicate fingers. "What have I done to prove that I am strong; that I am worth something?"

Rick continued to stand, now even thoughtless. He swallowed hard, trying to gather up the thoughts closest inside him, searching for him, wanting to feel of what was really there. "Marissa… you know what you -" Once again, the blonde, unknowing boy was cut off.

"No!" she demanded. No eye contact had been made for a while, increasing tension into the air. "That was back then. This is now. Tell me, what have I done?" she demanded uproariously that even people miles away could hear. "What?!" The Lightning Minor swallowed hard. No words could help at this point. He was too late. All he could do now was listen, and listen, and pay attention, and take her words into consideration, or in other words…listen. "If things keep going like this, you'll just end up dying," Marissa said, lower this time. "…and I'll be the one left wishing that I had protected you from the start."

Rick thought hard, the best he could, in fact. Was what she was saying right? Had he, been all this time, blinded from the start? Confused thoughts were all around. It seemed to fill and deposit into the air, making banks very, very rich and wealthy. "I wish I can change that fact," Marissa went on, forcing her best friend to listen. "The truth is, I'm just too weak. I'm nothing special… just like our last opponent said." Rick didn't have to even look at Marissa's face, but he could tell that tears were beginning to stroll for her bluish eyes. They glimmered brightly and caught his attention, shimmering orange, elderly sunlight.

"Marissa," was the only thing Rick could find himself to sway. His sympathetic eyes wished for something more of his mouth, something more of his voice, the wind lightly filtering through his spiky blonde grass. He had always thought he was of great use, but now, finally figuring it out, by doing that, he had made others he held so dearly feel useless. So useless, in fact, that it was now worth tears.

"Just… leave me alone," Marissa begged through a cracking voice. "For now, just… just..." Marissa didn't even know how to end that sentence. More tears came down. Her cracking voice refused to repair. She sounded like an old witch now.

Rick nodded, and knew that she didn't know of his acknowledgment. But what could he do, really? All he could do, for now, just like she wished, was to go away. He sighed lightly as to not disturb Marissa or catch her acute sensitivity, and began to walk away. Now, for once, the crunching of grass seemed to fade farther away, instead of becoming louder and louder. Marissa, knowing he was leaving, continued to cry harder anyway, even though he was trying his best to complete her wishes. Both sides were left unsaid, both persons lost in a jumbled puzzle of their own jigsaw thoughts – and neither one cared to get themselves out of it, because both of them thought that they couldn't themselves.

From far away, Lance watched from the distance. He stood against the body of a tree, watching the same shimmering silhouette of gold on top of the lake, floating on it with the lowest density existing. His eyes were somewhat crinkled, hard to tell from face value if they were open or not. His long, silver hair fell at his sides, arms crossed tightly and defensively, anxiously almost. Through slit eyes, he watched the blonde, disappointed boy slump up the steep hill, leaving things he wanted to say but just couldn't behind. So, Lance thought, half sympathetically. I wasn't the only one feeling this way about her. But… if she has the power to change all that she had just said, she may not be a "loser" anymore like I had called her long ago. I'd take back those words if she changes.

Lance looked up at the orange clouds and tainted, purple skies. He breathed in a whisk of cool air, breathed it back out. Crinkled eyes seemed to half stare for a long time as he heard the crunching blades of green approach slowly and unsurely. Aside from all this, Lance began. It's getting dark. The week is almost over… the Metal Minor sighed in relief and tiredness. I can't wait to get back to painting, he thought in leisure.

PoVS

Trees wanted to whisper away ever so slightly and sneakily, rooted feet unable to move. Disappointed, their bodies remained still, yet their determined arms continued to reach out for the skies, the growing specks of stars, their dreams, their goals. They wanted to reach up and drag the clouds, drag them back in reverse, take the sun and grasp it, grasp it in their wasteful hands and reverse everything – reverse time, and by doing so, giving themselves more time to move, more time to _try_. Was that such a bad thing? To want to _try?_

The last bits and wisps of smoke cleared away, finally knowing that they were unwanted, unneeded by society and its people. Fuming with anger, they stormed out as fast as they could, hoping to become one with clouds one day and then, finally, being big and white, _noticed _by society. Teresa sat against a tree, comforting it with her presence, making it more worthwhile to be stuck in its monotony forever until its death. The violet-haired girl solemnly fingered ointment onto her wounded cheeks. Last drops of blood waved goodbye as they plummeted to the floor, unnoticed, starting its new journey. Now, knowing its new journey from face value of the unacknowledged, it wished to return to the wound, unable to reverse time as well, wanting to take the sun and pull it back, back, back.

The cool ointment was refreshing almost, tingly in fact, to her skin. It lifted her spirits up somewhat as she recapped the medicine and put it away. She continued to spread out the solution on her face. Wisps of purple hair seemed to tickle it now and then, like adult, cragged fingers tickling the abdominals of a newborn baby.

Barely feet away, Daniel brought his right hand to his tired places and wounds. His fingers were traced in a holy yellow, flustering themselves over and over against patches of skin. He felt the energy pour into him and felt the wounds and cuts disperse themselves back into normal tan. He seemed pleased. Kenneth sat away from Daniel and Teresa as well, sculpting with a rusty old, newfound knife a tiny sculpture of ice. He seemed pleased just like his two teammates. He couldn't help but force a crooked grin as the ice slowly came to life, the blue-haired boy giving it shoulders, legs, arms that were stiff at their sides. Oh, how great it was to create something from your own hands! Slivers of unneeded ice fell to the floor and began to melt to its doom. Leftover parts of the ice were happy to remain seated.

"It seems that I don't make myself lose years of my life when I heal my own wounds," Daniel noticed as he finished up "cleaning" the last cuts and slits throughout his body. He took in a deep breath, feeling the coolness wash in his lungs and give him a refreshing feeling. How great it was to have such a feeling now, now at the end of the week as the final day ended. The light hum and glow of his energy continued holily.

"Daniel…" Kenneth called out to his brother. His icy eyes kept on the tiny, tiny person of the ice sculpture. He quickly caught his attention. The humming and glowing stopped. "Thank you."

Daniel looked at his brother strangely, weirdly, as if suspecting him of another being, a traitor. "For saving me," Kenneth explained. The Life Minor's expression quickly changed, bringing his stare down to the floor, as if in shame. "I was lost in some frightened trance but you were the one that protected me while I was lost, isn't that right? You sure are amazing, brother," Kenneth complimented him with a sure smile that seemed to take up half his face.

"No," Daniel muttered solemnly. His eyes were still heavy against the ground. It was Kenneth's turn to make a confused expression. Teresa's attention was caught, looking up from her place on the tree in a weird expression. Kenneth shared the same one. "I may have blocked a few attacks, but I can never have defeated the enemy myself," Daniel explained. His glasses seemed to slump down on the slope of his nose. "I was too…" Everyone waited for the last bit of the sentence. Their expressions became sympathetic, wondrous, in fact. Daniel completed the sentence in his thoughts. He seemed too humiliated at the fact of the last word. I promised Shintenmaru as well as myself that I would never feel that way again. "Teresa was the real one who destroyed the opponent, not me."

"But… you still…" Kenneth wanted to hand his brother some credit.

"No!" Daniel denied, refusing even the tiniest sliver of praise. "It was Teresa! I did nothing!" the Life Minor demanded once more.

"No," Teresa interrupted. Daniel looked up. His glasses seemed to jump up frantically. Kenneth looked up as well, and the two siblings found Teresa's solemn stare, hers as well as on the ground now. She replaced Daniel's motion so he didn't have to do it any longer. Everyone except her thought the same thing. What did she mean? "If it weren't for you, I would have never realized… just how great bonds with other people are." She seemed into increase in solemnity. This was a time of great realization. Winds whispered in gossip to the press, director trees cried at their masterpiece moment. Silence filled the air; soft, delicate winds carried fallen leaves back up, a ladder of hope.

Why does everything seem so tense? Daniel asked himself, gulping hard. It was even hard to swallow now. Amazing was this.

PoVS

"We'll leave when the moon rises," Hanabikai instructed. He got up to his feet and stared at the dying, withering sun. Half of its body remained, crying out to the horizon at the other end, desperately telling it to wait, wait for its return, then it will finally come and meet it once more with much, much more stories to tell.

"Yeah," Eric agreed, standing up the same way as Hanabikai. They both watched the sun seep down below, examining it, observing it, absorbing it as if it were their only source of energy. They had the straightest backs, proud of whom they were, proud of what they could do, yet sad of the past, but willing to take and change everything. The orange death spilt on their faces like sad tears unshed.

"Really, I can't believe I couldn't do anything in the last fight. I'm really sorry," Mark began to insist, sitting comfortably on the ground with his legs crossed leisurely. His expression was a mix of worry and pleading for forgiveness.

"It's okay," Eric chuckled. He turned his head to meet gazes with Mark. The Earth Minor suddenly felt all the more comfortable. "You can make it up later," he joked. Mark somewhat frowned, but that frown turned inside out later. Walter sat by the three of them, cross-legged just like Mark, but keeping to himself, eyes cross and narrow, mean. He peered past the metal gates that took in what little sunlight it could left. He stared off into the road away, and thought, thought hard, too.

Now that the week is over, what comes from beyond the horizon? He thought insightfully. What does the rising moon hold for me? Suddenly, he thought of Eric. He thought of Eric's words and the promises and purposes he made, he had sworn to follow. Then, Walter imaged his aunt, his uncle, and other shaded people in the background, smiling their crescents of deviance, eyes crinkled in pleasure of torture. Hate fell into the picture as Walter felt it build up inside him just by imaging the two demons. How I detest those two and the rest of whom they work for, god damn it! Walter thought in grudge.

Once again, a sign of his hate and goal, his astral inner self appeared in his images, whispering into its body form with its green, constantly flowing energy. Emerald wisps and shoulders blocked half of the outlined face. The eyes stared past the jade shoulders, bold and green and daring, accusing, deadly. Hateful brows crinkled and narrowed, slanted in a prepared grudge and action. Wisps of astral green faded from tickling hair against air. The green energy seemed to hiss, and this time, the inner self said nothing. Its stair did all the talking. Walter suddenly twitched in hate. A hand was subconsciously brought over his heart, as if he were about to perform a pledge. His teeth grit and ground tightly, hatefully, detestation filling his cavities, churning his molars, sharpening his fangs. Damn it…! he thought from immense emotion.

Then, the Water Minor noticed Eric, who continued to stare at the sun with his Council Counterpart. He has his own goals as well, Walter thought as he set his gaze long on the character, which did not seem to notice his stare. Teeth continued to grind. Cool wind brushed hair and flustered it into unorganized manners. I see.

PoVS

The eight remaining councils gathered in the dark, roomy realm of the Inner World, watching their once beloved find go into further despair, lost forever in a sea of forgotten memories. Darkness piled against darkness inside, and rusty, cylindrical metal barred against absent prisoners, only one to watch over. They stared with cross eyes, their presences hidden, their bodies disappeared. "Can you believe that he's been like this for the past seven days?" a council's voice spoke, unnoticed. Its voice echoed through the hallway inside the room. What a strange thing to have in a room, wouldn't you rather think?

"At least he's calmed down," a voice answered. Darkness echoed.

"Yes," a new voice entered as well. "However, he can start his outburst any time, and anywhere once again. It seems that he's gotten some control over the past few days, however his eyes remain dark and coal-like as ever. We must keep on watch out and make sure he does not go overboard."

"On top of that he is only ten years of age. His mind is naturally unstable right now. He is vulnerable to any type of thing, especially that – that _thing_ inside him. We must approach with caution."

"Yes," agreement went all around. Eyes nodded in acknowledgment.

"We may have to get _them_ once more for assistance. Do you guys agree?" a new, different voice echoed. Indifference and uncertainty went around the wide, longest room. Indecisiveness was the only emotion now.

"Yes…" a final decision was made. "It should be about time we asked for their help once more."

"We should be expecting the Minors soon from the Swamp of Mystery," a fresh voice started. Walls echoed everywhere, confusion filled the air. "Minoa, Hanabikai, Madasora, and Raikettei formed a team to retrieve them."

"Yeah." Agreement once more went all around in the eternal darkness. Heavy breathing was the only sound Jeremy gave in his imprisonment. Growls every now and then of hate, anger, detestation? No one knew. Just why did he go so crazy all of a sudden? What was he hiding? If he even knew that he was hiding such a thing?


	90. Chapter 90

Final rays of sunlight sang their harmonious finale as the curtain clouds whisked the holy sphere away, so that it could begin its performance in another horizon, so that the audience will chirp at its existence, and that the trees will sway, while eyes will receive the will to open up again, gazes of happiness filling the other side of the world once more. Metallic bars that refused entrance and refused exit even more suddenly burst open. Orange and purple of clouds became blackish blues. Metal ribs clattered as they were blasted open, their middle suddenly split and freed like a sandwich shared. Traces of moonlight began to show.

Moments later, voices were heard. The South Vermillion Bird gate was a gate of great worth. The bird statue's pride and soul split in half to give way for the enterers, the ones even more worthy of respect and acknowledgment. "It's time!" teenage voices shouted. "Let's go!" they echoed.

"Teresa-sama," a familiar voice tapped her shoulder with respect. Her eyes broadened at the sudden voice. She sat, surprised, against the knees of a begging tree, crooked arms giving way to comfy shade, a blanket of blackness to keep cool. Legs were crumbled into a thoughtful, processing ball. Arms held each other to prevent artic ice from coming in.

She jerked her head up ever so gracefully, and barely whispered, "Minoa-sama," as graceful and serene as she. "You're here all ready?" she spoke formally. Her finger lifted from the teenager's soft shoulder. The stabbing, prickly cleaves of the tree's body dug into her skin and flesh, yet was ignored from and by emotion.

"Yes," Minoa answered. Teresa turned. They met eyes for a second, violet, wowed eyes seeping into pale innocence, like Jeremy's. Time seemed to freeze for just a second. Blood stopped rushing and pumping through veins unnoticeably. Trees stopped whispering. Birds stopped fluttering. The night froze. And suddenly, as if starting back again a second later, everything was brought back to place. "Everyone's waiting," Minoa called to the Mind Minor. Teresa's expression of awe turned off, and suddenly, she turned her head back. She began to ignore her presence, or, at least, pretend it wasn't there. She sat uneasily as she brought herself back to the same position she had been before Minoa had come, before this week had ended.

Minoa sighed. She, too, began to become solemn. "Listen, I'm sorry I refused to teach you how to use Visible Darkness, but I want you to teach it to yourself first," Minoa explained, thinking that this was what Teresa seemed so distant for. As her sentence began, Minoa thought she saw a smile grow on the violet-haired girls face. This made her think, but nonetheless, she continued. "And then, I can teach you something else that -" Minoa's sentence was cut short by a loud scream. No, this was not a scream of despair, nor was it a scream of fear. It was a confident scream, a battle cry, and who else to give it than –

Teresa. The violet-haired girl screamed in determination as she suddenly turned, getting up to her feet and crying the loudest she could. Minoa, utterly filled with shock, backed up – but, was it too late? A loud crashing and booming screeched the trees and scraped the sky. Dust and smoke blew everywhere like an erupted volcano. Chunks of it moved in inclusion unwillingly. Trees shook at their burrowed feet, brownish puffs scattering everywhere like sprinkles on dressing on garden salad.

Eyes caught, Daniel and Kenneth turned around. They were right at the gate, watching out for anyone who might try to escape while they were vulnerable to entrance. They eagerly watched the cloudy puffs go past in anxiety. Thoughts went around as to what just happened. Birds seemed to flutter back to their respective trees, afraid of what was going on. Shocked, greedy trees jumped on their feet, getting clumsy and dropping their fruit to the soil ground. They cursed and swore in anger.

As the dust finally cleared, wisps of thick, purple energy dissolved away into nothingness, a nothingness that shall remain and always remain the same – unnoticed. Minoa stood in the rolling, grounded clouds, the ones that were tainted with gray and bad behavior, penalized by their mother earth and father sky. She gasped heavily, eyes narrowed and now cross, thinking, wondering of why and what just happened. Her hair became flustered, unorganized from the sudden blow. What is she trying to do? Minoa asked herself as her lungs continued to inhale and exhale strong, deep breaths. It was like she couldn't get enough. How strange.

Along the opposite side, the side of where Minoa's eyes were directed at, the clouds cleared as well, clouds that lost their way to the sun at the newborn night. Teresa was somewhat breathing heavily as well, and it seemed that she could not catch a good breath. Her violet hair was more flustered than it should be, scrambled all over the back of her neck. However, she did not care for this kind of thing, not like Marissa did. Her long hair swayed coolly with the bristling wind. They gave each other cold, hard stares, Teresa's hidden in shadow as purple force field energy faded from her crooked fingers. Smoke never seemed to end, always seemed to last.

"I'm sorry," Teresa apologized halfheartedly. Her voice was raw, tough, unforgiving. Changed. "But next time, don't patronize me," she insisted. More force field energy faded, also never ending and also always lasting.

She's gotten stronger… Minoa thought, her mind even too tired to speak. How unusual. How…different. What happened to her over the past week? Why was she suddenly so much more powerful? Her will was strong, yet, she didn't seem to have the confidence or right mind to have a power of this level. How did she change? Why did she change? More than enough thoughts flooded Minoa's ears with her own inner voice. It began to get irritating, agitating.

"You can teach me that 'something else' now. Were you not saying something about that earlier?" Teresa asked as she lifted her head to reveal a narrow, pale stare. Her violet, indigo-ish eyes had been drained of their purple norm. Now, filtered white and pentacle eyes stared straight at Minoa, showing themselves, strutting their stuff. Minoa gasped, realizing that she had all ready accomplished something she didn't expect her to. Next, after the shock, came the pride, and of course, happiness.

"You-" Minoa couldn't finish the sentence. All emotion was strained from her face like a plastic basket full of vegetables being prepared for dinner, tainted and tinted and dotted with beautiful faucet water, sitting there alone as if of no use. Minoa had to stop taking so many heavy breaths. Her voice was frozen, caught up in her stomach, lost, amazed. Eyes filled with awe, mouth dropped open and shoulders began to droop, give up.

"Yes," Teresa replied. She brought her hand back to her side as the last whispering energy disappeared, as well as the clearing clouds of smoke. More awe filled Minoa's eyes.

"What're they doing over there?" Daniel muttered as he narrowed his eyes, squinting as far as he could to find the two female elements. Emerald gaze began to cross. Suspicion filled him eerily, creepily, like the first drops of water beginning to filter through the blackish, rolling thunder clouds.

"They look like they're about to fight," Kenneth replied, not quite as curious as his brother, Daniel. He looked back and forth at the scene and then the gate, making careful measures of both of them at the same time to maintain balance. It would be a horrid thing if someone escaped the Swamp of Mystery that wasn't supposed to while the four people weren't noticing. Come on, four people? It'd even be a disappointment to have four people fail to stop the escape of someone from the Swamp of Mystery that wasn't supposed to.

Back at the scene, last bits of smoke hissed. Pebbles were weathered away from their original spots, but no one cared. They were away from society, unnoticed. Teresa calmed herself and her tensed muscles as she began to walk easily and patiently past Minoa. Minoa, becoming tenser by the second, seemed to pick up the energy Teresa had just released. Why was she becoming so scared of her, yet so proud of her?

"I've activated it," Teresa whispered lightly as she approached past Minoa's shoulder. Minoa tried to hold in her breath, she didn't know why. "I've finally realized that bonds with others aren't useless. Now, about that thing you wanted to teach me?" Minoa's tension left her. Slowly, but surely, it left her.

Minoa smiled and pulled away from her Minor Counterpart. Now, her tension was replaced with a higher level of pride. She felt great that Teresa could figure that all out by herself… right? Smiling gleefully, Minoa began. "Now, now, let's not do it now. We have to get going. It's time to leave," Minoa insisted. Teresa shrugged, and began to walk on her own. She seemed more independent than when they had left her. She was no longer as timid and unstable. She was strong. And that fact alone caused Minoa to smile even wider.

Daniel gulped at the immense power he had just seen. As Teresa approached, he could feel his muscles tighten, beginning to edge up and stress. What was this great energy and vibe that Teresa seemed to release? It was powerful, overwhelming almost. It was amazing. Teresa slid easily past him, and slowly, Daniel's muscles cooled. He picked up his glasses in nervous habit. She had this much power all along? Daniel thought. She really is something.

Eric… Teresa thought as she stopped at the open gate. She peered on to the dark horizon that awaited her. Dark vibes seemed to pour out of the Swamp of Mystery's entrance, yet Teresa kept the discharge low as can be without even wanting to. The dark, freedom grounds seemed too cool to step on, too liberating. She wanted that feeling to tingle all over her, to grasp and feel of her. She missed the feeling of normality so much, she'd kill for it. Heck, in this world, death wasn't even a thing of importance. People die a lot, and it's just one thing to deal with. Sure, you can mourn, but it happens. You can't cry too much over it. Not in this world. Or else you'd be one of the first to die. Eric… Teresa repeated the Fire Minor's name once more in her mind. It's all thanks to you, she thanked in gratitude. She couldn't say it enough.

Without that conversation back in the Inner World., I wouldn't have been able to realize just how much I was misinterpreting. Just how much I was missing, just how much I had forgotten about in the world. Thank you, Teresa repeated in her mind. She knew Eric couldn't hear her, but it was still worthwhile thinking about. It was like a prayer almost, a prayer to the new person she respected, the new person she cared about, and the new tight bond that she would help protect. No matter what.

Teresa… Minoa thought as she stared at the violet-haired girl turn around and plead at her with her eyes. It was easy to tell that all members of team four before her in the distance were eager to feel the fresh, innocent air once more before returning to the Inner World. I wonder, Teresa… Minoa thought, stalling their exit a bit longer. Did Eric help you? Minoa imagined the Fire Minor's face, the features she could only barely catch when she had run into him once in a while or when she had spotted him. He had never spoken a word to her, in fact. That kid… is he the same as…? Minoa finished the rest of the thought in secretion.

"All right!" Kenneth yelled out, getting hyped up. He cheered and burst into the air maniacally and comically. "Let's go! Finally free!" Kenneth continued to cheer eagerly as he seemed to beg and beg and beg Minoa to hurry and come. The Ice Minor was a bit too cheery sometimes, but he could never beat Dylan in that area.

"Yes," Daniel muttered in acceptance, picking up his glasses in habit once more. Light reflected off of them like a shade of some sort, brightness filling the squares magically, wowing newcomers. He nodded in acknowledgment and peered back to Minoa. His stare was serious, in fact, if you searched deep, deep down enough, you'd find his own pleading of escape. Sometimes, this amused Minoa. The Mind Council smiled happily, gleefully.

"Don't be so hasty!" Teresa smiled friendlily as she turned to Kenneth, trying to calm him down. Her smile was beautiful, Minoa noticed. It's just like mine, she thought. Teresa's eyes crinkled in a short happiness as she actually had to bring her hands to Kenneth's shoulders to calm down. What a beast this boy was! 

Minoa sneered nostalgically. "She's right, Kenneth," she muttered as she began for the gate. Daniel's impatient tension began to tighten as she approached. What was with tension and the Mind Element? Dear lord, could they control your emotions, too? This was beginning to get crazy. Daniel was thinking of getting his mind checked afterwards when they got back to the Inner World, where they actually could feel safe for once. "Don't get too hasty," Minoa slowly approached. "We'll be going right away, so don't jump up and down or else I'll put you in here for another week."

Suddenly, Kenneth's uproarious state calmed. This amused Minoa, as well as Kenneth's brother. "It's surprising that it's all ready been a week," Daniel muttered as he stared back to the trees. They seemed to wave goodbye, paying their respects to the presence of the Minors, praising their power.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Kenneth murmured, calmer now. His icy blue eyes were nothing but bonding and friendly. Teresa wished that someday, she could have the same eyes. However, making bonds with others comes with great consequence, this she knew. She wouldn't let anyone close to her die again – and for that matter, hurt. She didn't want to think she was crazy anymore. She didn't want to think of other people as useless, worthless pain. She didn't want to feel like she couldn't be friends with anyone, all the while watching the happy people with their ten year old relationships cheerily kicking and trotting down the street like nothing. She wanted to be one of those people. She wanted to be normal. Well, normal for a Minor, at least.

Daniel turned his head and found the moon on the way. It seemed so far away, so distant, away from the gate. It was in the prowess of trees, ready to get its glow on, approaching its new sky home slowly. Oh, if only the moon knew that it's exact opposite shared the same house as it. Would it not freak out? Would it not cry and go crazy and feel invaded? "Shh…" the clouds would whisper. "Keep it a secret," they would say.

In the greedy fingers of trees, the moon seemed to want to pull away, slowly but surely. Then, Daniel's emerald eyes left the darkened sky, and peered to the horizon of the south. "Is everyone ready to go?" Minoa presented. Three nods went about. "Good, then," she smiled. She turned her head to look at the horizon awaiting them herself. It was beautiful to her. To her, it was a great canvas worth of praise, more praise than that of the Minors or Councils, or even great life itself. Something so beautiful will never be known by society. How sad. Minoa began to feel crazy for thinking such thoughts. She smiled to herself in secretion and took one step out of the Swamp of Mystery, and that one step made bliss spread around, just like jelly on peanut butter. "Let's go."

"Yes, Minoa-senpai!" Teresa decided that her Council Counterpart had earned the right to be called such a great title. With a burst, they ran off, and slowly, but surely, they changed into eager blurs, blurs of the night, blurs against the moon and sky. Blurs of glory.

As they left, the cool grass blades waved goodbye, the moon howled, begging for forgiveness, thinking that it was the cause of their leave. Now, it remained lonely, scared and threatened by the leftover beings below. Showing definite signs of no return, the gates began to trace with a purplish silhouette, as if fingers lightly fingering around their every aspect and detail. Oh, how much fun it seemed to be having!

Trees whispered good-bye, sharing moments and times that they had there. Good and bad, mostly bad, being that the Swamp of Mystery was, indeed, the Swamp of Mystery. This fact could not be changed. Cold sounds blistered the night, swelled up the misty; periwinkle clouds that could remind one of the deadly mist they had been caught up in, a hazy fog of hell full of memories finally overcome. For most, coming here was a bad experience, but actually, for Minoa, it was a great one.

A day later, everyone found themselves in their beds, tiresome bodies refusing to wake up. Birds twittered outside in the Inner World, one of the many live things it provided. Brother trees that were disgusting at sight because of the reminder of a forest lingered everywhere. The hot, new dimensional sun set new grass ablaze. Cool winds flustered past easily taking them and putting them in their hands. They so eagerly wanted to weed the grass, mow the lawn, having no chores for life, they felt left out from human society.

Inside the darker part of the realm, Zack, the unrespectable Wind Minor snored loudly. A loud, pig-like inhale gave way and conceived to an elephant, whistled exhale. Again and again this pattern repeated, one more time, one more time, one more time. Oh, how amazing was a sound like this. How annoying.

Lips flapped against each other in spitting exhale. "I'm tired... hungry…" Zack muttered in his sleep. He twisted and turned in bed, the coverlet wrapped tightly around him, clinging to his body like leeches that just couldn't get enough of his sweet, sweet blood and savory, fragrant scent. Zack continued to snore loudly, nonetheless.

In a nearby room, Derek, half-conscious brought his old pillow to his head which brought bare comfort and stuff his face in it. His eyes were closed, desperate for rest as he hoped the pillow to wish away the loud, echoing sounds of an idiot Minor nearby. He cried out angrily as he threw the pillow against the wall, making a humorous and comical impact. "Shut up already!" he cried out, sad and tiresome. His eyes brought themselves to an open, a resistant open, a reluctant spreading. "Damn it," he cried to himself calmly. He sighed, knowing no victory. "Why is it morning all ready?" Derek cried out in tiredness as he dropped back to the bed, eyes closed long before doing so. He gave one last sigh before going back to sleep.

This black-haired Minor just couldn't take it anymore. The sheets covered his whole body as he tried to drown the sounds away, the white coverlet providing no comfort to his ears. "Zack!" he shot out towards the wall in a muffled cry. Derek's clothes lay scattered across the bed and weighed against him from a restless night before. He was too tired to organize them, and he was somewhat surprised in the back of his mind that they had not fallen off the bed during the night. Derek sneered irritably. His straight, black hair somewhat pricked and softly tickled his arms as they supported the blankets over his head. Poor Derek. He just couldn't drown out his old teammate's noises.


	91. Chapter 91

Empty dimness filled the room, painting its features over much too darkly, layer upon layers of reality paint, shading, blocking, ruining the structures of the widened, prison area. Tambourine gates rattled, shaken and shuddered by hands of strength, hands of thick, energetic air that had forces pumping through them, becoming vital to them, great to them, godly – to them. Coldness lingered in the room, ornaments hung high randomly as if put on a fresh Christmas tree, an exciting act. None glimmered like they should, and one could wonder what was wrong with these ornaments of cold. Nothing but silence remained for a long distance, not even a tiny, miniscule murmur of voice.

Hidden swirls of black and blood, whorled fingerprints and despair lingered, dwelled in the shadows, in every possible corner of the room, every time edge it could sink into, dominate, manipulate, take control over. Orange walls were disgusted by the dark, eaten away, destroyed, also manipulated. Disliked things must die. The long, shadow-dominating hallway which could barely be called a "room" was narrow, walls made of cages, cages of made of walls, metal bars rusty and wet, damp, remembering the eerie, sickening recollection of their victims, their partners. Now they were lonesome, crying. Crying and shedding tears all over their bodies, wetting them, dampening them, soaking them. Stenches of hate, disembodied evil hissed from each and every illustrious rib that wished for one more person to trap, one more person to hold and take care of, to nurture. One more. That's all it asked. One more.

Trailing the path of the hallway, you found a pool of darkness, a hole of hellish plight before you, coming closer and closer as you did the same. Shadowy hands that remained hidden in the darkness beckoned, pleaded for a soul to trap, begged like a peasant with the most raggedy, grayest clothes ever seen. Hands folded into a prayer like hammer-fist of hate, eyes and face distorted eagerly with horrid, discordant cries for help, for gold, for fortune. Then, the darkness into the square blackness bribed, bribed you, holding the only sound heard in the whole entire "room" behind it, past it; holding the only sound, only light. Anyone would accept, anyone would fall into temptation, surely at this point.

Approaching the darkness was seen faint murmurs of light. Blue light. Red light. All forms of wondrous light that filled your mind with a free sample, temptation putting its own hands above your own, taking control of you, infecting you like a virus, a visible virus, one that could scare to death. Then, falling into the darkness, light carried you away, gave you holy, heavenly paradise, illusions of reality. A wide, real room of norm was spotted, orange finally dominant, light finally present, sound finally existent. The faint hum of glowing processes whispered, murmured into the false night. Eerie glows and fingers dark, bloody red and reedy, magical blue swam across the sea of hell, blanket of black. They fingered, they poked the air, shooting across like bullets, right into the wall that stood before them, the wall of thin, metal wires and bars, trapping what was inside, the biggest cage in the whole "room."

"Really," voices murmured, echo after echo after echo. Dominant eyes opened and watched, preparing, looking, _glaring._ More thick bullets of color swam. "Was it really necessary to tap into these powers again?" the familiar voice of a non-intruder asked calmly. Fellow eyes, all shapes and sizes in their triangles of pale white, nodded, shook their heads, did everything to confuse the one speaking pair. Their actions were ignored. The humming continued and flowed into the gates. Screaming was expected. There was none. Poor ten year old child, few pairs of eyes thought. Was he dead, they wondered? Eyes shot themselves hard past the gates. They found – nothing – but darkness. Once again, they asked: Was he dead?

PoVS

Kahibi Eric walked out from the thick, wooden door and into the broad sunlight. Afternoon was just hours away, two or three, in fact. Smells of lingering breakfast drifted from far, far away. Or was that just his own hunger hallucinating on him? Daylight set him ablaze, more ablaze than a Fire Minor should. Clouds puffed white smoke against the blanket of azure. Trees rattled themselves in an instrumental dance of tambourine, hands doing the jazz gesture eagerly, happily, cheerfully. Grass blades caught the whispering gossip of the winds passing by, wishing they had arms to jot those millions of ideas down. Perspiration pasted this teenager's back to his clothes; he didn't know why. Had he been training recently? No, in fact, he had just gotten up from bed a few hours ago. Most Minors were still sleeping, lazy in their first day back. Everyone wondered the same thing: What next? Only time would tell, Eric knew.

The eighteen year old boy who had been filled with problems and still really wasn't sure if he still was filled with them stepped out into the grass bravely, closing the door behind him, challenge. The sun seemed to greet him, heating him up everywhere, as if he were uncooked food – breakfast of the starving, empty sky. The distant circle of light never failed to amuse and fill Eric with awe with its intense heat and warmth. Light winds showed no sense of time alone and whisked themselves into Eric's clothes. They cooled against his skin, comforting him. He took many steps forward, feet calm and steady.

Soon, he found himself among the trees, far away from the darker parts of the Inner World. Now, he hid from sunlight. Now, darkness crept over him, a prize blanket of cooling and comfort around him, unnoticed, unappreciated. His brown eyes seemed cross, muscles tense, or did they just seem like that? He said not a word, not even a tiny whisper of sound. Feet even failed to crunch against the blades of limp, fingering grass. Voices of impact caught his attention, jerking his head like automatic fingers of conceit.

Distant away, he found Walter, the respective Water Minor prodigy. He was training, attacking, marking, kicking, punching against a body of a random, poorly treated tree. It cried its last whispers out before its death. Walter had no sympathy. Its body was soaked from water attack after water attack. Eric, watching, yet only gazing, sighed. He was suddenly reminded of Walter's words not too long ago:

_"If you get in the way of my goal, I'll have to kill you, Eric, if necessary."_

_"Our purposes in life seem to cross. If they interfere like so, it just means I'll take you down."_

Few times, Eric wondered, just what was his goal, what was it that he wanted to accomplish? Why was it so important? Thoughts lifted from his mind, dragged away by puppeteer fingers. Her jerked his head back, finding a distant figure toward a shining, clear lake. Attention was caught; feet were dragged. It was past the trees, and into the heated sunlight, but it seemed worth it. A lake was interesting – at least now. Mornings always seemed rather strange, seeing as what they did to your mind. Who was there at the lake, sitting at the uncomfortable rock? No one other than Marissa, the Sound Minor that seemed to receive just too much respect. Trees rustled sympathetically. Eyes wandered, and so did Eric as he walked toward her, hearing the sounds of training impact fade away, slowly, slowly…slowly.

He began to near her. Marissa looked into the lake, and suddenly, feeling a jolt of Déjà vu, she whispered below her voice, whispered secretly in hidden blankets of silence, a minor tone unheard, unwanted, unneeded by the life of nature, the infinite life span of eternity. The lake that she washed and cooled her feet in like two soda cans in a frosty fridge, fidgeted against the new, clear water. It was much more comfortable and easing than the East Lake of Swamp of Mystery. How murky and disgusting and sickening it was. Repulsive in stench and behavior, more revulsion than snot. The rock was even smoother, more weathered, flattened to a comfortable crisp. She stared in, watching her own reflection distort in the reflecting, clear blue waters. It seemed to take her face, her saddened, depressed face, and wanted to change it, shaking it about, shuddering her frown and trying to turn it… upside down.

Grass blades tickled the corners of the unstructured lake, fingers of amusement on this great day that was not-so-great. Her golden hair wanted its turn to tickle the water, too, wanting to lightly kiss it, peck at it with a goldenrod touch. It only ended up caressing and fanning her cheeks, her hot, tearful cheeks, full of cries and complaints that could last one a year, fill one with amazing, awesome thoughts of realization, having no idea she had felt this way. You really couldn't just a book by its cover. She remembered what she had said, what she had told Rick, her last few words to him so far:

_"Where does that leave me? Am I some kind of treasure left to be protected? What have I provided to this group? All those weeks and months being Minors, what have I done that benefits us? Nothing. Nothing!"_

She had left Kumoyama Rick speechless. Poor pair of blondes. How many troubles they had, how… how un-blonde they seemed to be, doing well as they fought the stereotypes, but in result, fighting each other. Azure eyes hid the translucency of tears. Cheeks pouted upward, becoming hot and guilty. Morning sunlight made splotches of discordant, demented white light. They, too, were distorted and changed in structure by the currents of the lake. They, too, shared the same sadness and mutation of Marissa's colorful figure, reflected but never copied. She stared at her wavy, unstable replica. It seemed to have a better life than she, even if it dispersed and deceased when she left. Everything seemed to be better than her. A leaf was more useful than her. At least it provided the trees some good. What was she good for? Many thoughts like those raced through her mind, pulsing against her temples like mysteries unsolved, unable to be taken off her mind. Oh, how it pained her to see her treat her friends like this. How guilty and shamed she felt. Suddenly, Eric appeared over her shoulders. He stared into the water, and by doing so, stared into her. Her blue eyes widened, surprised, a bit happy. He had never approached, nor had he talked to her ever. What did he want now?

His arms were crossed, eyes blank and indecisive, undecipherable, coded and riddled with a hidden secret behind his human mask. It was easy to tell that behind him was something more, something much, much more. And suddenly, Marissa wanted to know what. She wanted to discover the final object to the mystery known as Kahibi Eric, even though she did not know him at all. Her eyes slouched at her face, sad. He immediately took notice of this. "Eric," she muttered his name, making no eye contact with him, even through reflection. Her eyes found their way to his legs' shimmering distortions portrayed on the water. He seemed to take notice of her. "What do I look like to you?" she asked, eager for the answer. He seemed ruffled, confused. Bright sunlight hissed at the ground below them, hot. "Am I pretty? Am I strong? Weak?" She waited a long pause before finishing up the sentence. "…or am I nothing?" Her voice seemed weak, unsure of herself, cracking as they finished the last bit of words, the ones that all her senses pointed to as the answer.

Eric, being indifferent, sighed. "Someone like me is not allowed to tell you who and what you are," he said directly. His answers always seemed truthful. His eyes began to uncross, showing friendliness in him. Marissa sighed at the indefinite answer. She didn't know. Maybe, just maybe, all her senses pointed to the wrong answer for once. Sadly, she felt even more now that they did not.

"I'm useless," she muttered sadly. Her head slouched more, if possible. Edges of the lake began to push away and reject fallen branches and sticks of trees. Kinetic waves of water hugged against them, resisting them, forcing them away sadly as sunlight faded into them, tainting them.

"No matter how useless you think you are, the truth is, you're not," Eric replied. Marissa seemed to sneer. "A being on a team has value, even the smallest one and the most unnoticeable one. It means something to the team."

"Yeah, right," Marissa scoffed in sarcasm. Even she didn't believe that. Eric was showing no signs of help at all. For now.

"Fine," Eric answered. Marissa seemed surprised. She jerked her head up a tiny bit, then slouched back down, sadder than before. "Let me ask you something now," he started right back up. She seemed interested immediately, looking up. "What's your favorite flower?" he asked out of the blue. She curled up uneasily to an uncomfortable ball. His words failed to amuse her, or even make her feel better at the least.

"A rose," she answered unenthusiastically. "What about it?" she asked, suspicious to some level. Sunlight seemed to increase.

"Okay, then, think about it this way," Eric insisted. Marissa's ears twitched, bringing themselves into full attention. She'd take any advice now. Eric seemed to answer to her pretty quickly. "Think of a rose. Its petals are all joined together, all put in unison around the bud, like a team, correct?" Marissa nodded unevenly, ever so slightly that it could barely be caught in the midst of your eyes. Gray winds seemed to pick up, lifting all sorts of plant life into the air.

Pause filled silence. Red, silky petals of Marissa' favorite flower suddenly came showering down in caressing boats, cradles to the air, slowly rocking themselves and the wind to sleep. They spun, twirled, two or three few in the air, swaying unpredictably in a smooth dance of slowly, evanescent hope. Time ran out as they softly dabbed the lake's body, now in the nurturing hands of rippled water. They softly glided, emotionless, empty, full of nothing as they trickled towards each other in the water, tiny, tiny boats of miniscule hope, minimized to an unnoticed being on the face of the earth. They so desperately swam to each other, wanting to hold each other, support each other, because they were the only ones who understood each other; they were the only ones they had. Hot rays of sunlight cried for them, leisurely clouds slowed their agility for them. Grass blades leaned into the water, wanting a closer sleuthing. Trees rattled, shaken and stirred by the scene in front of them, crying, crying for them because they knew that they could cry no more, they had no tears left to shed, because they themselves had cried themselves out. Now they were nothing but emptiness, faking their own tears, their own hopes, their own dreams, their own sunlit eternity – into their heated, blistering plummet of silent, solemn doom. There was nothing left in the world for them, and together, they just held each other's hands, a bare touch with their fingers, the reddish flakes that they were diminished into nothing. Nothing.

"However," Eric went on, using the same, graceful touch with the rose-team metaphor. Marissa seemed immediately helped. Light winds touched with a light serenity to her cheeks, and then, with the same wind, severed the bonds of the petals as they spiraled, slowly, but surely, out of control. "When one petal is lost from the flower, and one petal is gone, then the whole rose becomes defective, inefficient. It becomes, something one would say, ugly, correct?" Subconsciously with thoughts blasting her mind, Marissa nodded. "So, why, in the history of earth, would you be the first petal to wither away? Why would you say that you have no value, but when you shrivel and die, you leave the team incomplete, valueless, empty and incomplete?"

Why did his words make so much sense to Marissa? She didn't know. He could be right about that, though. Maybe… maybe she did have some personal values; maybe she did have some good things about her that let the team be the team. She watched the unbound rose petals soak their bottoms and lightly drift away from each other, lost selves within each other, glimmering brightly in the sunlight, noticed for just a while before everything, everything left them – and everything fell apart. "Eric," she muttered, eyes staring into the lake, watching those three, lonely petals, tiny and microscopic, ignored, unseen in society's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered as she felt the tears well in her eyes. Her nose tingled.

"No problem," Eric said lastly, turning around as he made yet another relationship to protect. He began to walk away, feet lightly and gracefully putting an end to grass blades' lives. They seemed honored to be killed by such a man of metaphor – such a man of grace and talent, a man of pride. How they wished they were him, how they wished they could solve their own ignorant problems like he. This boy was sure one to praise, especially at such a young age. He walked away, his presence soon fading. Ears no longer picked up the light crack of half-dewy grass.

"I'm a rose petal, huh?" Marissa said to herself weakly. She smiled. Then, she scoffed amusingly, smiling, eyes and spirits lifting up, only a little, but that little was still important anyway. Her feet suddenly felt more energetic in the cool water, and suddenly, she felt something trickle against her. It was easily noticed, and she, now being the nicer, bent over to see what it was.

The water was up to her ankles and something new, something fresh was at her feet, pulling itself against her, clinging to her like a child not wanting to let go, purring its babyish cry. She smiled and lightly picked it up, lifting her feet to do so. Her feet, bringing up the silky, smooth material let water fall back to the lake in ripples as the coldness of the outside air sunk into her feet. She brought it the object into her fingers, and felt its smooth, gentle skin. Its red appeal made it all the worth while to have in her delicate fingers. It was soaked, but now, it was saved. Now, it had someone to care for, and someone who cared for it. Then, happily and rejoiced, she easily and subtly stuffed the tiny, finally noticed rose petal into her pocket.

PoVS

Tsukansu paced eagerly and impatiently through the forest. His rush of feet was angry against the ground, crunching leaves hatefully as he went on, feet too fast, using too much energy, unsafe. Trees shivered at his unhappy presence. Damn it, Hanabikai! He cursed his best friend. He was much too stressed. Much, much too stressed for this right now. I can't believe this! Walter… there's no way!

_"Tsukansu," Hanabikai had called out to him in the Inner World's presence. The brown haired council turned his head around to meet eyes with his best friend._

_"What is it, Hanabikai?" Tsukansu asked, interested, unbothered, unlike what he would feel in just a matter of seconds._

_"Eric..." the Fire Council began._

_"Your Minor Counterpart?" Tsukansu asked, remembering the brown-haired teenager's name. "What about him?"_

_"He told me earlier when I went to his team in the Swamp of Mystery that…" Hanabikai couldn't seem to finish his sentence. Tsukansu's eyes begged for conclusion. Taking a deep breath to clam himself, the Fire Council started up again. "He saw Walter use this silver energy to slice an opponent's arm off. It traced his arms like a silhouette, Tsukansu!" His voice suddenly transformed eager. "Can you not tell me that this is a bad, horrible sign? Can you not say that he just used that – that move that White Cloak forbade himself?" Tsukansu remained silent. "Listen, Tsukansu," the Fire Council begged, pleaded almost. "I want you to talk to Walter. I want you to make a promise with him so that he won't repeat history, so that the Minors won't have to go through what we did!"_

_"How do I do that, Hanabikai? Tell me," Tsukansu said seriously and a bit angrily, beginning to get impatient and a bit mad at what was going on, disbelief filling his every aspect, tightening his muscles in growing stress and memory. I can't believe this, he thought._

_"I don't know, just do it!" the worrywart Council said. "If he really is fooling around with that move, you've got to stop it. Or else it could mean the end of everything for us, the Minors, and possibly everyone we know and care for, and tried to help." Tsukansu remained speechless, or, it was more like, his lips were sealed, not wanting to say anything, because he knew of the consequences. It was useless trying to argue with Hanabikai. He always won over somehow. It was crazy how he did it, too. Crazy best friend, Tsukansu thought. "Tsukansu," Hanabikai called out his name in recollection._

_"Fine, I'll go," Tsukansu said finally, getting up from his seat. The chair behind him squealed as it was hauled back. "If it makes you feel better, I'll go." Then, Tsukansu headed out for the door, strangely and suspiciously knowing where Walter would exactly be at this time of day, now that they were back from the Swamp of Mystery._

Tsukansu headed for the Minor, eagerly and irritably. "Damn it, Walter," he muttered to himself as he approached the figure of the brown-haired Minor, who trained against the body of a dying tree who still didn't seem to have enough at some point. Tsukansu made a sneering, suspicious face. It was uneasy, strange, in fact. Something was different. His intolerant steps made Walter aware of his presence, saving Tsukansu a few words. Slowly, he approached, and slowly, Walter seemed to tense, both stares intertwined with each other, hatefully, surely, maybe?


	92. Chapter 92

Hot sunlight burned, burned the ground to the sizzle – a lovely, jubilant way to burn. Lingering clouds with blistering with heat, ready to explode in the sky with their chockfull of pout cheeks, ready to hurl their stomachs any moment. Their sweat even dried before it reached the ground. The stench of starchy air filled the air to the brim with its thick, unavoidable scent. The Monday sun howled, giving birth to darkness while at the same time, eliminating it. Tsukansu continued through the branching limbs of the trees that clawed at him, protesting his path of life. They scratched him, scraped against him, batted him. He did not give up. He continued through the sea of cool shade, unacknowledged grass blades waving howdy-do fingers. Green bodies whispered to each other, spies of the dryad eavesdropping.

The gossip of the wind was caught in Tsukansu's ears. The Water Minor continued to train on that tired tree, slicing it, attacking it, blasting it, as if Walter hated it, hated it with all his guts. What had the poor tree done so wrong, being our provider of oxygen? Could Hanabikai be right? Tsukansu thought as he approached tensely, shortly, fatherly, brotherly. Could history really be-?

Tsukansu brought an eager hand full of crooked, selfless fingers of glad permanence to his face. He examined them, observing them, as if wanting, asking, pleading and begging for something more, something deeper and more meaningful. He found no answers from the lips of his nails. Wisps of silver glowed around them, danced, prayed, lived on them, showing themselves like chameleons giving up their childish game of hide and seek. Then, soon, the coin-color whispers faded into nothing again. No, Tsukansu answered his own question, demanding his answer right, declaring it. Don't be ridiculous, he told himself scornfully. Your best friend is much too paranoid, that's all.

PoVS

Hanabikai sighed. He sat uneasily in the wooden chair of the empty, faded room. Reality was bent, gravity was overruled. Corners of hateful darkness sucked up all the shadows in the room, clogging their gluttonous mouths, ending their obesity and beginning their death. Orange walls were tainted with shadowy grudges, spots of hate. Wooden furniture was nothing but a chair, a table, and empty nothingness, nothing special. Nothing at all. The ebony whorls caged the Fire Council, egging him into an oval orb of light, of visibility, available to him and him only, only favoring him. Why was he so special, of all people, that he deserved even a private orb of light in an eternal, broad and proud darkness? It made no sense.

Tsukansu… he thought, fidgeting in his seat as if he were too big for it, as if needles pricked against him from the chair, digging into him with searing, bulleting pain. I wonder, are you really telling Walter? He thought of their last conversation. Or are you starting up your lies of the past again? Hanabikai scoffed at the idea, making a joke of the long-lost past that shall forever remain lost. Now, having been through it all, he laughed at it. Purred at it, praised at it, anything but hate it. How ironic seemed this. Hurry up, okay? He pleaded in silence to his closest friend, having a change of interior tone. Today's the first day back, Hanabikai noted.

The darkness churned. It stirred like a wild pot full of his thoughts, wooden ladles of invisibility dropping into the big, mixing, swirling pot of solution to pull out thoughts every now and then:

That's right, I have to get Eric-san, prepared, the Fire Council made a not of himself. Especially for Hibiyomi, the thought filled with dread. That guy, back then…

_It was the day before the Minors would return. Everyone was tense, everyone's muscles tightened like so, Boy Scout rope abused, overused. Everyone except Hibiyomi. Darkness swept everywhere, seemingly the dominant element in this whole place, too important, not letting everyone forget of the shadows, forget of hell, forget about Hibiyomi, tension adding by the seconds, minutes, coming in pairs at the front door, letting themselves in, more and more unwanted as the clock eagerly ticked by. Anxious, tick-tock hands of fate began to turn, much too slowly for its own good, perspiring faces watching them with fear, watching them with hesitation with once-in-a-while looks to the door, then back to the slow, tortoise fingers of ebony time. Numbers inscribed on the white, mechanical circle sealed destiny, fate, life itself inside it. Memories lost were churned and shredded by the metallic, should-be-rusted gears._

_"Hibiyomi," Hanabikai let himself in the room. Darkness seemed more dominant in the room. It shot him in the heart with an absent bullet of fear. Careful steps and measures were taken as he walked in, slowly closing the door behind him, as if ensuring his own future, his fortune. The room seemed limitless, endless with its eternal shadows, its ignorant bliss of darkened sky and ground, dim walls of fury lost and lost in a sea of space, sea of invisible, clear, translucent space. The bare silhouette of the Shadow Council was seen right in the middle of the room, as if expecting the Fire Council. Hanabikai gulped, eager to get this over with, yet dreading himself with strings of backwards hate and grudge, twisting his stomachs in a tornado hurricane of nausea and fear. Sweat poured from the side of his face, all the while hoping that Hibiyomi did not spot his nervousness. "The Minors come back tomorrow," Hanabikai said out of nervousness, feeling like he had to say something. Making the fact more obvious didn't help._

_Hibiyomi turned his head, giving a cold, cross stare at his teammate. The Fire Council froze and felt nothing. The rushing of blood stopped. The hammering of his heart against the greedy ribbed fingers of its cage seemed to numb, numb away the pain and suffering. Expressions became drained, blank, unable to form. What was this un- coherency that seemed to fill the room so eagerly, so desperately, so thickly? Nothing seemed balanced. The room tilted over, tipping on its side, shunned screeches echoed at empty, deaf darkness. Wandering eyes of anxiety danced about in their limited, closed area. Hibiyomi seemed to wait, seemed to know that the rush of panic was taking over his teammate's body, just being patient until it got so high to the point where he had to speak. "Yes," Hibiyomi said, actually adding to his cooperative's nervousness._

_Hanabikai took a long time to start, unable to find his voice, a soft murmur of life spat out from his swollen, sweaty lips, starting his poorly scaled sentences. "You've heard about the Higher Powers, right?" Hibiyomi nodded, intolerant. "In exchange for custody of the Minors, we have to give up most of our reality-bending abilities, such as portals?" Once more, Hibiyomi nodded. "Well…" Hanabikai couldn't seem to finish. "One of us has to go pay them a visit and make it official."_

_"So?" Hibiyomi asked straightforwardly. He seemed to want to go straight to the point; no beating around the bush. He made the Fire Council extremely nervous and panicky; however, despite his emotions, Hanabikai calmed desperately, and went on._

_"So, since you seem to be the most patient out of all of us, we were thinking maybe you should go," Fire Council said. Why did those words about the Shadow Council seem so untrue now? Why did the Council have to start worrying about every single little thing of return and Hibiyomi? Why could this shadow-masked man just let go?_

_Hibiyomi turned his head, peering off to the deep space at his side. He seemed to search in it, search for a secret, sleuth into an empty concealment of hate and anger, detestation filling the gates of hell, flights of fury. His spirit felt like it had left his body, sinking slowly away from him, a new astral, comfortable form. Then, like emptiness getting closer and closer, the spirit seemed to be consumed by the greedy fingers of black conceit. Hanabikai was once again kept waiting. "No," Hibiyomi denied finally._

_"But, Hibiyomi –" Hanabikai said before he was cut off weakly._

_"I said no!" Hibiyomi crossed his eyes. He growled, scowled. "I want to be here when the Minors come back."_

_"Now, Hibiyomi!" Hanabikai finally found his inner confidence, his innovation and instinct deep inside him hiding behind his panic. His eyes immediately narrowed, showing drained fear and overflowing confidence. "You know very well why the rest of the Council thinks you shouldn't! You're going to go to the Higher Power!"_

_Threat filled the air, replaced tension. There was a long, dim silence. Echoes of the night seemed to be trapped in the room, whispering for escape, Morse codes of voice, soft, white murmurs of innocence. "Fine," Hibiyomi finally accepted with reluctance. His eyes narrowed, a grudging hate thieved from the dark, unseen corners of the mirage-like room. Hanabikai nodded, grateful. Harmony fell back into place, one peaceful melody in the sound of dark silence, in the presence of swirling darkness, among the shadowy seas of the unforgivable, unthinkable, and untouchable. "But, I will come back," Hibiyomi said, turning around as Hanabikai headed for the door. Now they were facing away from each other, just the right amount of distance away. "You can't protect the Minors, then, now can you?"_

_Hanabikai gulped. Hibiyomi's presence lifted from the room, fading into the shadows, sinking into the ground. Now, the Fire Council was left alone. Damn him…! Hanabikai thought through ground teeth. Darkness churned, shaking, trembling, as if recording the moment it had just heard, seen, experienced. Another record of time._

Returning himself back to the darker, dimmer, wider room of the present, Hanabikai thought insightfully, a loose fist supporting his head, elbow on the flat surface of the cool table. I have a feeling Eric-san's going to be the first one to jump in when Hanabikai gets back. I hope Derek-san is prepared, too.

Getting back to his feet, Hanabikai sighed, stretching his limbs. He felt the comfort sink into his sockets and replace the tightened muscles of his body. He felt freer, more refreshed, and more able to do something as the strains left him with nothing but easiness. Then, with a new thought and mind, the worrisome Fire Council opened the door wide, half seen with its orange peels, and walked out, closing the door behind him tightly. Soon, the cool touch of the golden, wealthy doorknob left the underside of his hand. Into the darkness he swam.

PoVS

Tsukansu continued past the grass and green, a parade of live energy around him, surrounding him, caressing him with their loving, affectionate touches and breezes. How refreshing this was to a lazy person. Tsukansu took these things into disregard as he approached Walter. He didn't really seem to notice him anymore. Should I be angry? Tsukansu thought to himself. He sure is working hard. The Water Council sighed as he watched the shadowy silhouette of Walter follow and mimic his every movement. Every punch to the tree, every kick that rustled tambourine leaves. Everything, that it almost seemed scary, freaky, strange.

Something suddenly clinked to the floor at Walter's feet. Punches stopped. Kicks paused. Eyes wandered to the ground, slowly, to catch a thrown water canister, wrapped in a brown cover, the circular pie of water full of the stuff. Then, slowly, his teenage eyes wandered upward to find Tsukansu, who seemed to finally stop moving. The council stared back at him.

"Shouldn't you take a rest from training so hard?" the council asked, giving a friendly smirk. Walter made no signs of bonding.

"Even so, do you really think I'd need that?" he referred to the _water_ canister as he resumed his hateful punches and kicks to the tree. His impacting fingers seemed to become blistered and hard, hot with energy, sizzling with pain. The same went for his forelegs. His eyes wandered away, uninterested.

"I see," Tsukansu replied. "So it seems that you find no use for outer sources of water." Nothing but punching replies answered. Tsukansu brought himself forward, and bent over to pick up the water canister by its strap, bringing it around his arm. "Let me ask you a question," he piqued. Still, punching answered him. Tsukansu took this as a yes. "Walter-san," he called to him. No answer still. Tsukansu disregarded. "When you teamed with White Cloak without realizing who he really was, he taught you how to use your chi, didn't he?" Walter's punch froze and distorted in the middle. His eyes widened, his face drained of color. No movement was made. Only wind. "Isn't that right?"

The Water Minor slouched his blistered hand back to his side and looked hard at the floor. He seemed guilty, as if he were hiding something in tight secretion, not strong enough to lock it completely. No signs of tension were anywhere. "Yes," he answered in solemnity. "But, only one way. I have no intentions of -" Walter was cut off short.

"I know, I know." The older water element sighed. "It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing even if you did want to become a Scholar, however, that one way he taught you – you know it _is_ a forbidden way of using it, did you not?" Tsukansu said aloud, as if wanting to make sure the whole world heard him. Walter seemed more solemn, more gone, away. His spirit wasn't present, absent. He was raising his voice, ready to yell, ready to demand, ready to scold.

"Yes." This was his first answer. Tsukansu knew there was more. So did Walter. And together, they both waited. No answer ever came.

"You can't play around with karma, Walter," Tsukansu said in a lower voice this time. "We can only hope that it won't affect you as bad." No reply. "Walter, do you hear me?" he said, raising his voice only a little.

"Yes," he immediately retorted. His eyes were still glued to the floor in fake shame, unnecessary guilt. Or was it?

"Good. Now, another thing." Walter seemed to tense now. He lifted his head, lifting the blanket of shade over his eyes. He turned his head and stared deep into Tsukansu, as if sleuthing him, searching him, examining him the best he could for something more, something hidden, something he remained a secret to use against him, blackmail. Insecure paranoia this was. "I clearly know your goals that you have in sight for the future," Tsukansu began to explain. Walter listened closely. Just the world "purpose" caught his attention completely. Or was it, "I know?" He couldn't decide. "You just have to promise me something. Whatever you choose to do, make sure it benefits most people, and not only you." Walter said nothing.

Tsukansu began to start away from him, back into the outside of the forest to leave him alone with his training, providing no sense of closure whatsoever to the conversation. Grass and leaves rustled in an instrumental choir of dance. Walter once again brought his stare to the floor. He waited as he slowly listened to the pace of Tsukansu's fading steps. They no longer looked at each other. They no longer targeted each other with their deathly looks, their thieving glares of wanted hate, but the hate never there, never on time. "Why?" Walter said in a murmur, so barely that only a tiny, tiny mouse close up could hear him. Tsukansu froze in his tracks. Leaves stopped in the middle of their chorus of grass and nature. "Why?" he repeated, louder this time. Tsukansu had the sudden instinct to turn around and smack the boy. "Why should I help other people, other societies, after being the exact same ones that caused all the pain for me?" he asked in a rising voice. His hurt, tired hands clenched tightly, hatefully, grudgingly at his side, ready to shed forgotten tears of sweat, nails digging into soft, fragile skin in detest, hate. "Society can go to hell for all I -" Once more he was cut off.

"Enough!" Tsukansu demanded, quickly turning around that it even caught Walter by surprise, stopping his words in their streaming flow of hate, hate, and more malleable hate. Hate spilling everywhere like a pool, coming from his sickening, revulsion lips like a hose, pouring out in spilt milk containers, big lumps heavyset on the ground, weighing and weighing themselves with their eternal, immersive importance that they began to weigh deep into the ground. Hell began. A loud slam echoed through the rustle of trees. The vengeance of a hurt, wounded tree was fulfilled by another.

It was Walter's body that was hard against the surface of the prickly body of the tree. His eyes winced, preparation for pain, fingers tightly closing in on his neck, a scarf of skin and threat as he was lifted from his feet, feeling the weakness grow into him from his legs. His brown eyes stared down at Tsukansu, who was now technically shorter than him. "You think that the world revolves around you?" Tsukansu screamed, leaning in on the Minor, a little to close for comfort. He was about to spit all over the teenager. "You think just because you complete your goals, society will cheer for you!?" Predictions were right. Angry spit was all over his face, caking his skin like embellishments on a beautiful celebration cake, the affair bringing out even more of its beauty hidden inside, one that would have never been able to live if not for the experience that occurred right now and then. "Your accomplishments, your goals, won't mean shit if the world goes down in bits and pieces and flames to hell when you just got your vengeance!" The grip around his neck tightened. Walter couldn't help but other a weak, low cry from under his breath. The far, faraway side of him finally got to speak, whimpering like that old child he was back then. Walter began to push that personality back further in the past, more and more. He never wanted to be that person again. _Never._

The boy strained a tiny, tiny bit, unnoticed muscle clenching inside him. Then, calming himself, Walter exhaled from blank, confused lips an exhale of relief and acceptance, resistant acceptance. "Fine," he whispered just barely, voice choked and restrained. The throttling hand released itself from the boy's neck. The Water Minor dropped to the floor, hard on his butt as he felt the air pour back into his lungs once more. He took a few heavy breaths, then began short-term ones, normal ones.

Tsukansu, saying nothing, resumed his walking. He was about the same place as he was before when he said, "Walter." The called Minor turned his head, as if forced to pay close attention. His expression was hard, cross, unforgiving, unwanted, uncaring. "Don't get lost." Then, leaving the boy with words of dazzle and puzzlement, Tsukansu started again, crunching leaves and grass under his shoes as he left the forest. Walter watched him as he slowly faded away into a dot. He got farther, farther away. More and more distant, unable to be caught now, no, not at the pace Walter was going. So far, far away. He became farther, and farther, and farther, and farther, until he was a tiny, tiny dot of sensation, tiny dot of unnoticed society, and then, until, he was nothing.

Slowly, Walter turned forward, feet unmotivated to move, unable to get up. His feet seemed suddenly too tired. Much too tired for movement. Arms no longer wanted to lift the strained body up. He sighed in his weakness, staring at the crawling, despaired roots of a tree as he tightly clenched his fist at his side, emotion controlling his hand with puppet strings, tightening them, locking them, holding them until they shook uncontrollably. Strong emotions poured into his arm, ready to punch something to bits. His teeth tightly ground each other as his eyes narrowed crossly, no one there to give it to, even more saddening.

Later, Tsukansu muttered to himself to add something to his last statement. "Not like I did."


	93. Chapter 93

The door suddenly burst open, a large emergence of unexpected entry. Wooden door slammed against orange plaster prowess, large portal widened, a hungry mouth of horror, eating away at emptiness, insatiable air. Flattened, dim ceiling lights lit up the room like morning, the wise nothingness of the square, orange prison blunt with the starchy, dull smell of stale air. The loud clatter brought Kokori Dylan to sit up, his eyes suddenly awoken from the cold-water fingers of slammed vibrations.

He gasped, breathing air, the innocent boy unable to catch his breath for a mere ten seconds. First instinct would have told him to stare at the door, to sleuth the intruder. Even this was lost. Gathering thoughts and pulling them back from the uplifting air with invisible, mental fingers, Dylan shook his head, blinking. He pulled the covers to his legs and slowly, brought his emerald gaze upon the door. How long he had slept, he did not know. All he knew was that it was a new day, and he was tired.

Beyond his eyeing caught the very familiar face of the Botanical Council, Kakori. A nostalgic smile was spread across the bottom of his face, lips curved in a too-happy stretch, a sickly joy. "What's going on?" he asked, examining him closely with suspicion deep in his eyes, twinkling faintly, distantly, invisibly. Kakori's dark-green, tied hair remained stiff. Eyes were acknowledgeable, friendly and noticed. A few steps told of his presence, whispers of soft clicks against hard, grumpy ground.

"Don't get so crazy," Kakori calmed as he walked, holding something in his hands. A thin, silver tray of food lay beautifully in his rested fingers, wide, flat bowl of a sweet, drifting aroma with tall cup of orange, silver utensil associates glimmering its petty concave and thorny smiles in light. It shook as he walked, rattling uneasily, balanced unsurely. "I figured you were hungry, so I made breakfast," Kakori said. Suspicion continued to twinkle. Clear vulnerability retorted from Kakori's expression.

"Really?" Dylan said, looking rather weird just up in the morning without his orange headband that lay comfortably on the nightstand table. The white-haired Minor seemed dumbfounded as he watched the silver mirage approach him.

"Yeah," Kakori answered, as if Dylan had asked an unintelligent question. "What?" Kakori asked as he approached slower and slower, getting closer and closer. "You sound so surprised."

Dylan took a while to adjust. "Oh, don't get me wrong; I really appreciate it. But…" His face turned solemn. Kakori wondered what was wrong, stopped. "Well, it's just that, you rarely find anyone that will just do you a favor out of the blue."

Kakori seemed to think about it, steps frozen. He looked up in thought, watching the flat ceiling lights dig fingers of light greedily into the food, wanting to take it all for itself, a hunger never satisfied for many lonely years. "Is that so?" he asked lightly. "Well then," he said without completing the sentence, resuming his walk towards the Minor. The white-haired boy seemed more confused than ever. Kakori walked and placed the tray on the nightstand table by Dylan's trustworthy headband. The silver tray clattered against the wood, utensils shaking, trembling with fear. Fragranced smell of fresh food lingered and replaced the sickly, stale air. Morning – morning for Dylan – became delightful. He couldn't help but spread a smile on his face, just like a peanut butter and jelly lunch scattered across soft, fragile bread. "Goodbye," Kakori waved a goodbye as he walked back towards the door. Soft clicks made concealed whispers as they whisked away from solemn shoes. "Don't stay in bed too long," he warned fatherly.

"Yeah," Dylan promised with a mutter, a confused a mutter, a mutter of puzzlement, suspicion, but happiness. "Thank you," he almost forgot to say as the door shut him back in. He felt like a prisoner, getting fed in silver, cleaned trays of food, locked up right after. He whiffed in a huge load of air into his nostrils, nurturing them with delicious taste, the wafting smell of hot, steamy syrup sending a crave through his nervous system. Then, having had enough, he took his orange, sun icon headband eagerly and put it on, making his appearance complete once again. It was cool against his skin, having had enough time to soften up and freeze during the night. It was refreshing, like a cold, heavy towel of awakening. He rubbed the sand out of his eyes and let them fall randomly, off of his mind, and then, wasting no time, brought his gluttony hands to the cool silver tray.

Outside, Kakori waited. He felt the doorknob under his adult hands and leaned against it for support. Worry replaced the friendship in his white, blanked out eyes. Don't get too comfortable, Dylan, he begged of the Minor, as if he could hear him. When Hibiyomi returns, you can't be sure whether he'll go after you first or not. Slowly, full of restraint, Kakori moved away, gliding, scraping the floor with unsure friction with his wooden slippers. His presence slowly faded.

PoVS

"Okay, first, before we begin, I need to tell you something," Minoa said as Teresa trailed her back. They walked into a large room from the dark hallway, brightly lit up in spirits and area. The walls were painted a happy, confident orange, spread out for space, space used for who knows what. No furniture lay in the room, a barren nothingness stuffed inside, and no matter how much nothingness you stuffed and stuffed, the room still never overflowed. It was an unlimited supply, unlimited register of money, greedy, greedy money of green envy and sin.

Together, they walked to the center of the room, and then Minoa turned facing the shorter girl who was just a head smaller than she. She gave her a daring look. Teresa didn't reply, eyes wondering just why she had called her here. Minoa seemed tense, nervous, more nervous than usual. "What is it?" Teresa asked, forcing herself to talk and end the lingering suspense.

"Inside you, you know there is a Half Spirit, correct?" Minoa became all serious, all business. Faces crossed. Teresa followed. The purple haired girl would not let herself become the weaker one of the two, no matter how true this fact was. Nothing would stop her.

"Yes," Teresa answered, willful.

"However, there are certain things that combine and connect your powers to your body, giving them sources of power," Minoa began to explain. Ceiling lights flickered, scared, alert. Walls seemed to crumble in reality, twisting, churning, whirling out of control in a downward spiral of spirit, unseen to the naked eye, melted. Minoa continued. "These things, the things that connect from your main source of Half Spirit energy storage to your body parts, are called 'links.'"

Teresa nodded, letting her Council know that she was following along, that she was paying full attention to her best ability. "Each Free Spirit power, in fact, all kinds of powers, whether it is White Cloak's or yours, has a special combination and location for each linked part. You have to know these in order for me to teach you what I promised." Once again, Teresa nodded once more, taking it all in. Minoa went on, glad to see that her Minor was being so cooperative. "Let me tell you yours. Remember these wisely. If any of your links become damaged, power control may become unstable, and your body will most likely outburst out of control." The violet-hair listened, and gulped. She was sure to make extra meticulousness into this. "Usually, the more gates you have, the more powerful one is. In your case, you have seven. There is one at your left hand, and another inside your forehead, connecting to your brain's mental systems."

"One at my left hand…" Teresa muttered to herself, bringing that same hand to her face, examining it, comparing it with her right. There seemed to be no difference, but in fact, there was. How hard it was to figure out where gates were! Teresa was amazing, and continued to listen.

"Your linked profile is very special, Teresa," Minoa smiled, suspicious. Teresa blinked, unsure of what Minoa was really saying. Her eyes pleaded an explanation from the council's lips. "This meaning that the other five other than the one at your mind and the other one at your left hand are constantly moving throughout your body." Teresa was shocked. Could links really do that? Wouldn't they need to stay in one place to operate? "I know what you're thinking," Minoa joked. "And yes, usually, they do need to stay in one place to operate; however, this is also another reason why yours is special. The other five, which are usually based at your two legs, your front torso, your back, and one at your stomach, will usually and constantly move around by command of your mind's gate, releasing constant Half Spirit energy throughout your blood stream, which eventually float upwards towards the layers of your skin, and emerge in harder-than-diamond crystals which you can mold together in telekinesis, creating one thing you know as –"

Minoa used her hand to explain the rest. "Force field," she completed, holding her hand up and releasing a constantly flowing wisp of the purple stuff. It was like a slowed flame, slowly cracking at the air, wisps of it flying and escaping, dissolving, finally knowing it was unable to live on its own, unable to survive at its own cost. The energy crackled, and Teresa was wowed by the entire thing. She had never known that the Half Spirit had done this to her. "Now, I need you to keep this information in mind. You may need to use this later on. It is your decision on how you use it. Now, this is the task I need you to complete," Minoa began.

Teresa locked the information deep into the corners of her mind, replaying the words like a broken tape inside her head a million times over just so she could remember it. "I want you to somehow figure out a move that will help you regularly by using these gates. We have no time to waste, so I suggest we start now. Let's go!" Minoa insisted, begged, pleaded, rushed.

Teresa wordlessly accepted. Or- it was more like she had no choice but to – since she was suddenly whacked against the cheek with an invisible force, something totally unseen to her. She tilted on her feet, falling backward as she slowly brought herself back in confidence, feeling the hurt and pain sear through her left face. She lifted her eyes, and with them, came mean, cross eyes, pale with a white snowy color, scribbled with a dark pentacle. "So you were able to figure out I was using spirits. Good," Minoa muttered in compliment. The Council closed and reopened her eyes, and emerged her own set of pale, scribbled eyes. People had to wonder. Which one was better? The orange of the bright room became dark. Readying her stance, Teresa waited. The broad room was full of space, and finally, she figured out the reason why Minoa had brought her here. "Now, let's begin!" Minoa declared, sending a green-lit sphere arsenal of will-o-wisps at her, darkening the area.

Teresa spotted each one, and they came at her slowly and expertly like bullets. Thinking of something quick, Teresa jumped from a few, blasted a few with her left arm, sending out a wave of force-field energy. "No!" Minoa denied that technique. "Too easily pierced!" The spirits zoom and cut straight through the energy and made direct hits to her. Pain spread out everywhere in her limbs. She fell to the floor, weakened and finally getting a sense of how hard this would be. She got right back up, her hair flustered, arms weak, heart not ready to give up. This is going to be hard, Teresa thought, standing straight back up again. But, I'm not giving up. Never! She prepared herself for the next round, all ready breathing heavily like an elephant.

PoVS

Derek whistled a tuneless melody as he strolled down the dark, empty hallways of never ending path. Darkness surrounded him, but he didn't care. He was used to the dark. The dark was his home. His straight black hair felt smooth, cool, ignored as his impatient feet walked down the hall even further. Darkness awaited him, crawling shadows of nothingness blocking his view. He would not know when the path would end, when the next corner would be met.

Then, suddenly, hearing echoing, faraway footsteps other than his, dark eyes widened. The clicking of faraway shoes were almost so near, so close, he could almost feel them, touch them, smell them. Darkness whisked the presence faster, quicker, closer. Derek froze. His feet were able to move, but his suspicion kept them still. His arms carelessly stuffed into his pockets, he easily waited, waited because there was no place to hide, waited because there was nothing else he could do. The footsteps neared. They clicked nearer and nearer, a warning of some sort, a churning, grinding noise of hell that emerged from its shell, a piercing sound of an evil, devious flute that swam through the air. Someone's coming, Derek pointed out in obviousness. He need not tell such a thing to himself. He all ready knew, and there was no one around him to tell it to. Darkness erupted everywhere. Everywhere and every place. It gave suspense. It gave a lingering suspense that kept Derek waiting, kept him waiting patiently and time-wastefully; however, he didn't care. Derek was one of the most patient people in the world, and he waited, just waited.

"Oh? Well, if it isn't Derek-kun!" a cheery, happy voice called out. No, this was not Zack's, nor was it Dylan's. It was one just as annoying thought, and reopening his eyes in ignorant bliss, Derek met eyes with a council member.

"Kakori-sama?" Derek spat out, as if not expecting someone like him to appear out of the blue. He found the green-dark haired Council standing suddenly before him, unexpectedly close. Half his face was eroded in shadow, eaten away by darkness, hateful darkness.

"May I help you?" Kakori asked, a cheery, jubilant smile wide on his face, unable to be wiped off. Derek disregarded the idiocy that appealed to him and just went on, stating his problem. His eyes wandered carelessly to the unseen corners of the room as he spoke, wearily. His hands continued to be stuffed in their respective side pockets of his long shorts.

"Yeah," Derek said in a long tone. "Do you know where Hibiyomi is? I've been searching for him everywhere and -" Derek was cut off, his voice elongated in boredom, deep in maturity and coolness. He was surprised, yet not as surprised as one could be when he was suddenly interrupted.

"No," Kakori answered bluntly, not letting Derek finish. "Haven't seen him anywhere. Sorry," Kakori muttered finally, starting past Derek. The Shadow Minor made suspicious looks as he watched the Botanical Council walk straight past him in an unacknowledged way. His voice was blunt, dull as a number two pencil used for an hour straight. "I don't think you should very well search for him, either," Kakori spat out with a monotone voice as he froze his feet, putting his steps on pause. The clicking of his shoes stopped. Time seemed to freeze. "He's doing some work for the Council."

Derek, now filled with suspicion, answered, "I see," as dully as one could get, even duller than Kakori. His eyes were fixed on the taller man's back as the footsteps resumed themselves in a certain automaticity. "Thanks," he blankly spoke. Kakori did not answer. Soon, the man was out of sight, and soon, Derek was back alone, left in a solitaire of thoughts, a prison of interior monologue. He began to start for the end of the hall, nearing it, hearing the darkness whisper to him, beckon him, taint him with temptation, temptation that would soon poison him. However, he refused as he went on, pushing the darkness backward, pushing it, bullying it, shoving it back and back and back until it finally crumbled into tiny bits, no place to move anymore, bullied by just Derek's calm-headed, cross stare.

What was that just now? Derek thought in notion, disbelief falling into chunks into him. He cleared his throat, nervous. Then, with a sudden rush of energy, ran off.

"You're showing too much emotion," and unfamiliar voice called out to him as he began to run. Derek froze. That voice was so unfamiliar, so strange, so untrustworthy, that it scared him half to death. His eyes broadened and froze, unable to go any further. His black eyes shuddered in their tight, closed space as he slowly turned his head back, finding nothing but darkness waving a deceiving hello to him. Then, slowly, assuming it was nothing, turned back, and resumed his running, keeping his eyes peeled more than ever. No way… Derek thought.

PoVS

Rick sat in a lonely corner of an unknown, lost room, a room unable to be found, off the charts. He didn't even know where he was. The Inner World was so confusing, no one could figure out where they were once they took a look around. Every room, every hallway looked the same. They were all just different sizes. Was this some kind of security for the Council? The blonde boy thought. Then, crumbled into a tiny ball, Rick thought about Marissa. About what she said to him, and about what he thought of it. She's wrong, he thought in certainty.

_"Where does that leave me, Rick? What have I done in the past that has made me so important, so valuable to guard, to protect like a valuable treasure unwanted to get lost. What am I? Where does all this leave me? Why am I so…so… useless to you!?"_

He remembered her many cries of uncertainty, many cries of desperation, doubt, hesitation, moans of tediousness filling her with tears, with retching, retching tears. When she shed tears, Rick felt like shedding tears as well. She's wrong when she said that, Rick repeated in his mind again, half his face hidden in a wrapping of arms. He sat like Teresa had sat at the last day of Swamp of Mystery. It seemed that this pose would remain the mysterious, thoughtful pose for the rest of the series.

The truth is, he began. She doesn't even know how much she's contributed… to me. Marissa, he pleaded, begged, did everything he could to get her to listen. He got up on his feet before he finished the sentence, heading for the door just so nearby and convenient. Open your eyes. What's the point of having all this power with no purpose to use it for? Rick thought in honest truth, pulling open the door with a creak. Even the wooden portal made a sinful groan of despair, depression, doubtfulness. He felt the cool air brush against his face from the dark corners of the hallway. Nothing but black lay before him, but he was not scared to face it. He did not care for those swirling wisps of hate, whirling grudges, blinding folds of sin.

The doorknob remained cold in his hands, cold with thoughts, thoughts pouring into his mind that he so didn't notice, that he so did not care for right now. Then, suddenly a presence emerged from the shadows. He was shocked, scared, maybe, even a little. Then, the figure came clear to him. Raikettei, the Lightning Council. He seemed to ask his mind's question with an optical communication. His hand remained on the doorknob, ready to shut it; he didn't know why. Was he becoming paranoid?

"Rick," Raikettei called his name. Why did hearing his name change him so? It was like a call to him while he was faraway, a call to bring him back to earth, back to reality and realization so he could see things for what they really were, and what they really meant, and not what other people perceived it to be, mistakes of the past lead to mistakes of the future, after all. The blonde boy froze and stared at the bald-headed shape of his council's face. It took his mind off things. It trapped his thoughts, took them away, brought them to solitary confinement and imprisonment for safekeeping. Rick did not need such thoughts in his mind, lingering around like a dreaded assignment waiting to happen, a nervous test inside his mind. "Now's not the time to be fooling around," Raikettei explained. Rick seemed confused.

"What're you talking about?" Rick said, staring deep into Raikettei's green, jade eyes. They seemed to hide something, hide something of knowledge, envy, belittlement. They hid Rick's secret and Rick's problems behind them, solid, emerald doors of solitaire, a good thing to have in a moment like this. A good thing to have indeed, Rick. Not even this blonde teenager could understand. He seemed to want his problems back. He seemed to want them completely, unnaturally, like they completed him or something of the sort. How abnormal.

"Come," Raikettei demanded without explanation. He turned and began walking down the hall. Rick forgot about the hand on the doorknob and released the hold, poking his head out the threshold of the door and watching Raikettei's back slowly begin to get farther and farther away. "I have something to teach you," Raikettei muttered without eye contact.

"Teaching?" Rick muttered unsurely, doubt filling his mind. What did he mean, teaching? Since when did there become something worth teaching at this point? Just what? It made no sense to Rick.

"Yes," Raikettei answered, turning around ever so slightly. His right shoulder faced the Lightning Minor as his face turned completely. His eyes were narrow, cross yet friendly with a smirked, faked smile. "About your links," he answered. Rick blinked, wondering just what was about to happen. Soon, he found himself following the Council.


	94. Chapter 94

Hisses of mid-day chimed themselves thoroughly throughout the dimension, carrying messages of gods, omens of the sky. Ears of the sick, orange walls listened, heard, attained the word of cloud, the sentences of the sun and grammar of the moon. Silence. All sources of strong light gasped, breathing in their own conceived, hiding away hope like an empty juice box refilled. Fingers of burning darkness dominated walls, corners, ceilings. They fingered ground and floor, wide and narrow spaces, dark and gloomy nights as well as cheery, blissful days. However, despite the dissolved existence of hope, one room held one character that worked – fought for hope, fought with it, allied it.

Miroku Teresa gasped heavily, breathing in and out, in and out, as if giving birth. Her heavy breaths filled the whole room, the wide, limitless room. Her purple streaks were flustered, unorganized on her head, dancing, crawling, stringing around each other, hateful snaking and constricting with the worse split ends one could have. Her energy resources became as dry as an oasis mirage – empty and humid with the forgotten memories of condensation waiting to come back. Not yet, she thought. Not yet, not yet, not yet. She continued to beg of her arms, her legs, her feet, her eyes. She wouldn't give up; she didn't plan to, either. Her eyes were spectacled with scribbled stars, her cheeks weary and tired, unable to inflate further with cool, least claming air. Her skin felt hot. Her face felt hot. Everywhere burned from tiresome sweat.

Hardly, she tried to pose herself into a prepared fighting position. Her fists clenched unevenly, dwindled fingers of energy in great need of replacement, ancient, old fingers grasping onto what little chances left, little tiny specks of time, opportunity. Feet positioned skillfully, she waited, time after time breathing over and over, a small pattern of rising and falling for her body. Smoke hissed everywhere, proof of work, proof of sweat, blood, tears. Indents in the ground and cracks on the wall erupted with an eerie moan of pain. Damaged ceilings crumbled. Then, among the transparent smoke stood Minoa, restless with a patient, manipulated energy. Eyes burned with passion, tired marks stretched all over her like hey had been recklessly painted on, relentlessly masking her with merciless intent; she commit herself to a false light breathing, acting as if she were not tired at all. Her white hair was not as flustered, not as tired, not as hateful to itself as Teresa's was. "You've gained more confidence," Minoa complimented from afar. Her voice boomed, echoed, shattered. "The old you would've given up by now. What's changed about you?" she asked, curious.

It was true. And Teresa knew it, even gladder to hear it. "Eric…" she managed to speak through wide, unsealed lips. Minoa seemed shocked, even though she really shouldn't be. "Eric made me realize bonds aren't useless. He gave me confidence, he gave me clarification. This is how I will pay my debt I caused myself from the beginning of this whole Minors dilemma, and this is why I won't let myself give up that easily," Teresa explained. More heavy breaths came in, inhaled and exhaled in a claming manner, confidence winding, binding, strong.

No expressive reaction from Minoa's face. "I see," she said rather loudly. The walls gave way to a wider path for her voice. "Just as I thought," she began. Teresa, shocked with astonishment, continued to listen. I wouldn't be surprised if he changes everyone, Minoa thought to herself in secretion. "Well, then, let's go!" Minoa resumed the fight. Teresa shifted; becoming filled with awareness, alert for any movement, any slight difference in the area. Minoa lifted her eyes and showed her tired, stretched pentacles.

Teresa did the same, eyes cross with mean preparation, readiness filled to the brim. "I won't lose to you!" she promised, swearing her life on it with her confident fingers. Four stars glimmered in the blank light, and glared at each other, ready to do some real damage.

PoVS

The sun was broad, high in the sky to the highest point in the zenith. Muscular rays of gold bounced and scattered from clouds, shot and struck at the ground like bolts of lightning, a memory, a wish for a storm. The sun wanted – needed a rest. Poor Apollo could not keep his eyes open for half the day any longer. Oh, how he wished for a leisurely cloud to lid his eyes, for his eyelids had been burned off, a curse of hate by the more powerful. Hissing streams of vertical steam and smoke drifted upward, wishing to be Apollo's pet while the position was still available. They were wafted and taken away by the selfish wind, angry with their black, puffy frowns, fists of white smoke clenched in grudged detestation. No way… Hanabikai thought in disbelief, breathing heavily. His brown hair flustered, he tried hard to search, sleuth for his breath. Detective lips found no traces of it anywhere. His breath had completely run off, along with his comfort. Hanabikai's brown eyes flickered with past's passion, fists along his face, ready for punching, beating, bluntly fighting as he caught the rivers of smoke in the corners of his helpless eyes. This was way too fast, he told himself, calmed. I haven't seen so much incredible power and potential since… since me.

His glare fell upon the very important Minor, Eric. The teenager held his fists out, eyes narrow and ready, ready for more, asking for more. Slits between clenched, tightened fingers hissed with white, fiery smoke. It was hot against his skin, and his body, regularly tired yet carried by never-lost confidence, neither trembled nor shrugged at the sign of training. Sweat ran down his face as the hot, blazing sun set him ablaze more than a Fire Minor should. Amazing was this boy, important was he as well. A perfect match for a main character indeed, Hanabikai thought as he stared nostalgically into Eric's eyes. Something flickered in the sunlight. Was that… a blink from Apollo? Oh, has this God finally come to resent his duties? How horrid! What will the world do without him? What would the Minors do without Eric? No, no need to think of this, ever. It would never happen! I guess I shouldn't be surprised, the Fire Council thought to himself in awe.

Stares continued to be traded, pointless exchanges of the same glare over and over and over again. "Are we finished?" Eric asked, breathing from his nose, as if trying to use his mouth the least out of all the body parts. Perspiration came from his fingers and dripped to the ground, heating cool grass.

"Yeah, yeah," Hanabikai said, snapping out of his awed thoughts, thoughts of the amazed, thoughts of the past. "For now, anyway," Hanabikai went on. "Keep practicing. You'll have the hang of it sooner of later."

Eric nodded, neither happy nor sad to hear the news of training put to an end. He was glad. He had learned something new. Something he could help people with, someone he could make a difference with. Maybe... just maybe I can use the new move to help the rest of the Minors, the rest on my team. He tightened his fist as he watched it, watching the hissing, snaking white smoke dust away from the palm of his hot, blazing hand that seemed to burn deep with a coaled fire inside. It was strange how the hotness of it seemed so normal, so harmless. Taking his eyes off of it, he began to walk past with certain gratitude towards Hanabikai, a Council Member to respect indeed. He was just about past his shoulder when the council whispered into his ear. "You know, Eric," he began. "If there had to be one," he continued. "You'd be chosen for the position of a leader for the whole Minors team."

Eric turned and stared, wondering if this was a joke. The glinting of Hanabikai's eyes were a surefire honesty, sincerity filling his tanned expression. "You've got the most potential, most will, after all," Hanabikai went on saying. "Just make sure you don't forget about your powers' links."

"Yeah," Eric promised, turning his head back. Hanabikai's eyes broadened in wonder, a wonder to why Eric had not given his opinion about the compliment he had made. Did he not care? "As for a position of the leader," Eric said, walking just a few thoughtful steps before stopping again. "I'd think I'd tie with Kasumi Walter, to say the least." Kasumi Walter? Hanabikai thought in his mind as he watched his Minor walk slowly away. The Water Minor? Inside, the council smirked happily, nostalgically. It's no wonder, huh? He thought. "Hey," Eric stopped himself again.

Hanabikai, once more, flashed an uneven gesture. Clouds seemed to intensify the sunlight now instead of blocking it. Crazed heat this was. Even for Fire Minors. "Hm? What is it?" the council asked, brushing the backside of his hand against his forehead, wiping perspiration away to his ablaze fingers.

"Shouldn't we get going?" the Fire Minor asked as he turned almost completely around, staring into Hanabikai's facial expression, as if detecting him, searching him for something more, something he hid. Hanabikai suddenly felt intervened, exposed, revealed of all secrets; mind emptied out of all thoughts like a garbage can flipped upside down and a tiny, lanky nerd being flipped upside down by the playground bully for his lunch money that clinked with an innocent luster to the asphalt ground, helpless fingers unreachable to their pocket homes. This was the only time the American Eagle was shamed. "We should be expecting Hibiyomi soon, right?" Eric went on.

"Mm," Hanabikai murmured in thought. He looked up at the sky, thinking, searching for the answer inside their concealed, scolded rain. He thought for valuable seconds and answered, "Yeah. You go on ahead. I have some business to attend to."

"Business?" Eric asked as he saw his council counterpart turn his head towards the towering trees of the brightly lit forest. His gaze followed. Then, they returned to each other, as if exchanging thoughts, information, data.

"Yeah," Hanabikai answered with uninformative sense, bluntly, dull as a number two pencil that never, never wanted to be used ever again. "Go," he insisted, or more like, commanded. Apollo blinked.

Eric turned his body backward and started heading for the darker parts of the Inner World again, a cool place to rest, but then, changing his mind, just walked towards the lake, where many rocks surrounded the body of water. "Don't go messing around, Hanabikai," the eighteen year old boy joked. Hanabikai smirked and felt proud of such an accomplishment this boy was. Little did he know that he had many problems, despite the fact that the council knew all about his past. However, he knew nothing of his present, leaving him behind.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," was the repetitive answer of the brown-haired council member. Then, walking towards the pillaring trees, he looked back at the soft steps of Kahibi Eric. Then, he wondered: Does Eric look more like me without that bandanna? A foolish thought indeed, but hey, they could only be who they were. Hanabikai smirked in his thoughts and turned back to the forest, looking into the slits caused by bodies of faraway, distant trees. And then, inside them, he saw another brown-haired Minor, also training his butt off. Walter, he headed forward, becoming serious. I won't waste my time, he promised himself.

Eric walked towards the rocks. Sunlight lit them up with bright texture, the lake water splashed towards them, wanting to cool them as they begged and pleaded with a craving thirst. However, the water was not strong enough, and both sides became sad. Turning to a rather tall rock's body, Eric fixated his stance and held his fists to his chest, his side. They began to hiss with a crazed white smoke again as he felt the heat charge up deep within him, as if he were a volcano that was about to burst with lava. I shouldn't let me, or the rest of the people on "my" team down, Eric thought. I'll train now. He held up his fist and preparation, and white smoke erupted, clouding his sight somewhat into a steamy transparency. Then, seconds later, he charged, screamed.

PoVS

Darkness blistered the ground, the walls, the ceiling, swirls of hate snaking around invisible bars. Daniel thought deeply, about the past, the future, the present. Currently, the past was on his mind. Back then… he recollected. He brought forth moments of the past, traces of happenings, events that he had been through with Teresa and his brother, Kenneth. He remembered so desperately trying to defend his brother from the unseen enemy, taking so many hits, even three daggers to the stomach for him. However, despite the promise he made Shintenmaru when they had fought, Daniel couldn't help it. He had to admit it to himself.

He was scared. Yes, he had promised Shitnenmaru to never be scared again and to take on challenged with confidence; however, to promise such a thing without knowing what you had to do was pointless. It was like someone telling you to do the assignment when they had just walked up to you, and surely enough, you'd be confused, asking "What assignment?" because you simply did not know the directions, or the task needed to be completed. However, in this case, Daniel knew what the task was, however, he did not know of the sacrifice needed to make it reality. This was the most important.

He sat in his fragile solitaire silence as he continued to think. He traced the triple-daggered wound on his stomach. Pain shot from his fingers and caused him to wince. It hasn't healed completely yet, the redhead thought. He felt the fabric bandages that seemed slightly indifferent to him, his senses, his mind. I have such a great mind, but for what? Daniel thought. What's the point if I'm always too scared to do anything, but start acting, posing like I'm not? I can't lie to myself. That's the worst kind of dishonesty. He sighed, depressed.

Suddenly, the door was shaken by a many knocks. The redhead Minor picked his head up and stared to the half-shaded door. The darkness even ate at that, gluttony biting away the escape, the portal of retreat. It would forever keep Daniel in this shadowy prison of thought. Thoughts that would never be able to get out, thoughts always left unwritten, unbothered, unsaid by sealed, cold lips. There was a sudden frost that fell into the room, and now, even Daniel seemed so afraid to answer the door. "Who's there?" Daniel called out, thinking he was slowly becoming paranoid. His intention was to go into such denial; push it to the back of his mind as far as he could so that it would become unreal. However, now, he was just lying to himself again. How pathetic, he thought of himself.

"Daniel?" a muffled voice scuffled against the door. Golden doorknob clicked, rattled, shook in eager entrance.

Daniel remembered the voice immediately. It couldn't be. What would he want? At this time? "Shintenmaru?" he called out in a mutter, an astonished mutter.

Skipping three days later, the day remained broad. Evening neared, the cold frothy haze began to seep in from far away. Not a soul was outside the dark part of the dimension. Even the confidence of Walter had gone back, the importance mystery of Eric as well.

Yomi Derek sat in a dark, comfortable, blatant room unattended. A boredom fist supported his cheek, his head up. He sat in an easing red chair, comfort to his back. It was neither hot or cold, loud or quiet. The air was not thick, nor was it thin. He sighed a long sigh; the only thing for certain was that the air was dull, blank with no words spoken, empty with any excitement exhaled. He was alone in this solitary confinement of injustice, wishing, hoping for something new to come his way. His tanned skin had somewhat faded, spending three days indoors. He had gone out to train during these few days, however, Hibiyomi had not been there, so he did not learn much.

Everyone's been training for the past three days while I did nothing, he thought of himself in shame. Hibiyomi… where've you been? Derek thought in astonishment. Kakori had told him earlier in the past few days that he had business to attend to. But what kind of business was this? It made no sense to him, and Derek was mad, irritated. Am I really going to let someone like Zack surpass me? Impossible, Derek muttered in his mind in a grumble, grumpy, yet not cranky. I've been lucky enough for Madasora-sama to teach me about my links. Once more, this black-haired boy sighed.

Suddenly, there was a tap at the threshold of an empty doorway. Someone's presence was mysteriously here. And he, he did not notice it, no matter how sleuth-like this Minor was. Turning his head almost eagerly, he lifted his head from the boredom fist of support. Ease slowly sunk into him once again, and he didn't know why. His eyes broadened in surprise, and he was happy to see – Hibiyomi. However, he didn't know that he really shouldn't be. A cold, hard glare met his surprised ones, and with a low mutter, Derek whispered out in a choke, "Hibiyomi? It's Hibiyomi-sama!" Astonishment of as-if-on-cue blew in chunks into his mind, as if sneezing.

Hibiyomi, saying nothing and silent with that blackish, shadowy costume wrapped around him and gave him somewhat sharpened, oval eyes, narrowed. His stare became as icy as a glacier, cold as the night. The eerie blackness of his pleading, devious fingers were abnormally crooked, crooked in hate, grudge, detestation, mysteriousness and enigma, a curtain of unsure feelings wrapped all around him. Burning darkness cooked Derek with an ominous feeling. The teenage boy began to wonder what was wrong. He assumed nothing was wrong and asked, "Where've you been?" as he let out his pas thought. He still couldn't believe his council counterpart was finally back, right after he had thought of him. How creepy was that, really?

No answer came. Derek began to wonder what was wrong. Eyes narrowed at him, and Derek suddenly became nervous, an emotion he hadn't felt for a long, long time. It took a lot to make this boy nervous. Hibiyomi sure was… amazing… in his own, twisted, distorted ways, he was amazing, eye-catching to audiences. Eye-catching indeed. Darkness seemed to fear him, wanting to eat at his new, unrecognized presence, yet much too afraid to do so. The earth seemed to tilt, and confusion and nausea suddenly began to take over Derek. The black-haired boy wondered why there was no answer, lifting a perspiring brow towards his toned forehead.

"Derek…" Hibiyomi asked, creepily and raspy. Derek stretched his eyes without recognizing it.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, suspicion filling him. Nervous habits forgotten seemed to twitch in his mind.

"How many wounds do you have?" Hibiyomi suddenly asked.

"What?" the boy seemed confused. "What does that have to do with anything?" Darkness froze. Time went on, scarce.

"Tell me… how many? How many did you get from coming back from the Swamp of Mystery?" he insisted in retort.

"I-I don't know," the teenager boy with straight black hair replied, nervous now. "Why? You're sounding crazy!"

"I know why," Hibiyomi assumed. His eyes showed no emotion whatsoever. His lips were left unseen. Darkness erupted, tried to crawl away but too afraid to move, as if Hibiyomi posed a threat to something even of nature. Darkness – it swirled. Only the daring ones did, however. Hibiyomi, impatient, glared. Murderous attempt unashamed and proud glinted like a lustrous knife in the council's eyes, certain fault seeming to slowly grow in him, spreading over him, dominating him. He was no below suspicion, under the line completely, so far below that it was scary – even for Derek. "You showed too much!" Hibiyomi suddenly cried out, yet calm. His emotions began to pour out like spilt milk, a horrid shatter of broken glass and a crazed, out of control wave of white liquid splashing and crashing like a wave – a wave of hell from the depths of the eternal pitfall of sin. "You showed too much of it! You weren't prepared!"

Just what the hell is he talking about? Has he gone completely mental? Derek thought, eyes broadened. His feet told him to get up and run away, but his mind told him that that would be showing too much… too much of… No way. Is that what Hibiyomi was saying? How would – no. What? No! Confusion and puzzlement dazzled and danced and twinkled around Yomi Derek, fizzing him into a deep loss of mind, a great emergence of uncertainty and a slow drowning of helpless confusion and disorder, helpless, now drowning him and washing it away… away… away into a deep, unclear distance. Away…away…away…


	95. Chapter 95

"You showed too much, too much, too much!" Hibiyomi continued to cry out in a numbed darkness, a dusky noir of silent screams, screams that became so piercing – that they stopped entirely. His eyes widened, cracks of tension red greedily reached for his pure dark pupil, a stretched pointed oval of distorted sight. Daring dark chirped.

Derek, wide-eyed and filled with horror, was taken by surprise into a one-man rampage charged against his stomach. Hibiyomi tackled him straight into the back wall. The black haired boy winced as he plummeted to the plaster, thick sedimentary pieces of it cracking, falling to its despair, a suffering of loneliness that began at this moment. Plastered smoke hissed out, clouding Derek's senses more than they were. Shrubs of gray smoke began to invade half of the room, comfort pushed over the edge and fallen into fear, a sparse norm left readily diminished. Pulling himself up immediately and tediously, Derek spat out, "Hibiyomi, what're you doing!?" with a voice unstable.

"You showed too much!" the council repeated in a psychotic rage senselessly. Dust adjusted into smoke, mended to easy wisps of innocence. Derek, still finding himself in certain puzzlement, lay in his own rigid seat of plastered indent, arms flailed against and sprawled over a limbed set of cracks, body deep into the vertical ground with legs protruding out like pins and needles to a doll that just didn't belong, that just didn't work. Quickly, the council ran across the room, through the whispering smokes, past the hissing darkness, a daring fingering of light. He reeled in his fist, and then – and then!

A loud noise of impact. Pain seared, warmed, calmed, spread, died. Surprise filtered and dazed. Last shreds of dusty curtain were swept, slowly brushed into a fragile nonbeing, a broken glass of sea. Another presence entered without notice. Then came more, remaining unnoticed. Movement – it froze. Time – it went on, slowly, gracefully, consuming its own self, its own cost, lingering in the basaltic air with suspense, marrow darkness, a nonexistent halo of light. Eyes – they widened, in shock, in fear? But definitely in astonishment, a challenge brought up from the depths of unnoticed society, a disregarded people now protesting with compassion.

Looking up to meet eyes with the taller council, a boy with brown, protective and purposeful eyes locked into Hibiyomi's trapped psychosis. "You're Hibiyomi, huh?" a familiar eighteen year old spoke. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air! How amazing! How filled with awe this put into people's eyes, how much amazement it placed into a broken audience's hearts!

Derek stared beyond the boy's shoulder, staring into Hibiyomi's widened, stretched, abnormal eyes that were filled with daze, filled with trance, a trance of nothing, a trance of neurosis, a phobia of all things good. He stared past the red, and right into the dark. The dark that he could see clearly – faithfully. Eric…? Derek guessed, teeth clenched without energy, eyes shuddering in their intrusive walls. His hands froze; the plaster stuck onto the boy's skin, disallowing him to rise, paralyzing him in a lock of terror, a petrifying from hell. Hibiyomi said that I showed too much, he continued to think. I showed too much…what? "Eric," Derek called out, bringing himself out of his thoughts and paralysis. "What're you doing here?"

"Yes," Hibiyomi agreed, a bit calmer, yet his voice still raspy, still devious, still _evil _with dark, lusting attempts. "Why are you getting in the way?" Eric widened his eyes in shock as Hibiyomi angered his voice and pressed his held fist into the boy's palm, pushing him somewhat backward. Shoes scraped in resistance backward across the floor, slowly, unwillingly. "You show too much, too!" he cried out, now fully angry again. Hibiyomi's eyes widened more, red cracks reached more, grew more.

"Because," Eric said, trying to hold back the pressure of the locked fist. His voice seemed strained, abnormal, effortful. "Derek is someone I can… protect," he had finished the sentence with a purposeful difficulty. Derek, amazed and shocked, broadened his eyes.

"What?" Derek had to say something for himself. The rest of his words were found speechless, lost, and yet, somehow found in an absent colorfulness, a curtain of invisibility, the sense of movement there – just so barely you could almost feel it, touch it, _breathe _of it in nervous, tense grasps.

"Why should you care?" Hibiyomi continued with the pressure. "Why should you care about protecting? Like is just to kill, kill, kill!" he said in psychosis. "Otherwise, you will be killed!" At his words, Eric tried to pull back, but couldn't. Dark fingers began to crawl from his feet, his ankles. Crushing grasps of death withered around him, strolled upward with an unease, slowly dominating his body into a blackness of silhouette; an emptying of shadow, a soundless moon. He couldn't move any more. He had to be taken over. Derek, not knowing what to do and still pretty much struck with bolts of jolting lightning, stood there, watching, unable to move himself, with nothing holding him down.

"Now, now Hibiyomi. Calm down," a new voice entered from a certain hall connecting the room. New eyes watched, watched and looked after, like a babysitter. More eyes widened. Shadows stopped creeping up tanned forelegs of innocence. Darkness gained the will to move, to dare once more. Daredevils they were, departed was light.

"Yeah, calm down. It's your first day back. Do you really want to spend it killing two Minors?" a different voice entered, a different, more familiar voice. "Hibiyomi," the sound of Hanabikai entered the room, calling out to his teammate. He had obviously gotten over his fear for his teammate. The brown-haired council entered the room with a confident stare, entering from a dark, narrow hall. Tsukansu entered beyond the darkness, face half hidden in shadows. Hibiyomi, still caught in a trance, glared, turned. Then, Hanabikai, as if reacting, turned backward to meet Tsukansu's eyes. They both stared into each other for a second, deeply, as if wanting to feel what was really there, what was really beneath those unlit lids, a second barrier worth breaking. "You can thank me later," Hanabikai whispered to him. Tsukansu, dazed, seemed confused. "For training Walter right after training Eric about the links for you." Tsukansu suddenly realized. Light bulbs popped and danced themselves alive in his mind. Eyes widened to allow light passage. Teeth lost energy to grind, construction not much worth it anymore. "Don't forget important things, Tsukansu," Hanabikai scolded.

Suddenly, water council's face still frozen, Kasumi Walter strolled past with the two councils, on the other side of the hallway now. He faced away from Tsukansu, as if he were really not there, a much taller man yet a less purposeful one. A shame of defeat from one many centuries younger filled certain air, certain inhales and exhales of tension brown, nervous anxiety. Tsukansu stared, as if begging for forgiveness. Walter pretended to ignore. The boy sneered inside his mind. Tsukansu, filled to the brim with guilt, heard it, deep in the corners of his mind; he knew what Walter must've been thinking. A hurt face wretched and distorted his mind and face.

Faces seemed to return to the scene that took place. Hibiyomi took long, hard glares into Tsukansu's eyes, then Hanabikai's, and then, finally, the mysterious ones of Walter. He gave each of them a long look, as if taking something from each of them, and then, turned back to Eric. He stared into his uncaring eyes, as if nothing was wrong, confident with passion. With a scoff, he pulled back his pressure fist, relieving Eric's palm of hateful pressing. The shadows at his forelegs drew themselves back in. Then, slowly, Hibiyomi walked, solemnly, towards his fellow councils. Nervous glares watched him, locked on him, tense tear drops of the body known as sweat came down in an unwanted, pathetic tearing. Eyes brought themselves to the corner as pointed oval ones stared straight into darkness above. Slowly, comfort sinking back into Derek's arms and legs, he brought himself to his feet, small nooks and crannies falling to the floor as the gravity began to take away and eat at his unwanted leisure. Dusting his clothes, his stare followed, along with Eric's. Everyone stared as soft, silent steps walked across the plaster ground, calmed position of movement. They seemed to all target the new arrival of the council, who also, put anxiety into other's emotions as he neared them.

Then, finally, and unnoticed, as if freezing time while still moving and putting it back, Hibiyomi past them without them knowing, even if their eyes were cold-hard on him. The soft shiver of footsteps began to slowly fade away, and comfort, confidence began to slowly shimmer itself into everyone's bodies until –

"Wait," a voice demanded. It was Eric. Frantic, accusing and fearful stares turned themselves to the eighteen year old boy. His eyes were hard into the narrow hallway Hibiyomi caught himself in, arms crossed in front of him, eyes narrow brown. His stance, tall and proud, legs straight and filled to the brim with a non-resistance, a strong will, a live purpose. Through the darkness, he could see many of the half-masked faces of other councils, standing against the wall, frantic poses wishing that Hibiyomi would get farther, farther away from them. Hibiyomi, reacting, stopped. He did not turn. He stopped. His footsteps, they froze into ice, heavy blocks of cinder cement. Silence filled the air like a filling of sweet, delectable cake. This was the first time no one wanted filling! They missed the clicking shoes, the emptiness of the doughnut. What was wrong with plain? Plan was fine – plain was _good_. "Do you really believe that living means killing and nothing else?" Eric asked, voice regular, unharmed.

A hoarse voice answered back, body's arms crossed in front of it as well. Nervous tension shot at the air, splitting it in half, blistering with an atomic radiation of danger, a sense of timid risk filled the gaping area. Many seconds passed, until finally, "Only for things that are in the way, yes," came the answer, a raspy, neighed voice. "This is how life is. It is pure balance."

Few seconds waited with a rigid worry, a timorous coil that felt like gunshot. "I see," Eric answered, the only one in the room, except Walter, who wasn't affected by Hibiyomi's immobility and stance. "In that case…" The attention of Hibiyomi was caught. His head turned a certain angle, somewhat, barely noticed. Eric waited few seconds once more to stuff the air with a suspense that went from lingering to hanging. "You're wrong," Eric put it bluntly, dully, complete, as if ending it then and there. Dark eyes wandered, narrowed into hateful slits in a flash, sudden grudge. Detestation radiated; tense worry made watching, masked councils timid. Unseen nervous habits began, resumed.

"What?" Hibiyomi said almost threateningly, coldly, a rasp of hoarseness filling his vocal chords. The darkness spiraled out of control. It soon gave way to nonexistence, a would-be light. Hard, nervous swallows fell to the pits of many stomachs.

"You're wrong," Eric repeated once more, even though he didn't have to. Frantic thoughts burst from people's minds, yet too afraid to emerge from broken lips. "There's no point in killing, in hurting, if you don't have a purpose to work for," Eric said calmly, as if it were nothing. How brave and admirable this boy was!

Hibiyomi sneered. The council was tickled with timorous coy. Just the sound of his scoff, the vibrations of his low disregard scared people in the area. Why? Why was he so… unwelcoming all of a sudden? No, people knew why. However, the real question remained: Why did it affect them so much? He put fear in a lion's eyes, sparse confidence into a tiger's teeth, a bashful nature to a vicious shark. He was like a poison that slowly spread through your body as he approached, just the presence of him freezing your blood to cold-hard, red-brick ice. Your eyes would be left frosted over with a red mist, a broad expression masked over your real face, a distorted wrinkling of hell, skin cold blue and misty with inescapable fog. "What do you know; you're just a kid!" Hibiyomi accused without turning. His position remained, bashing against mobility.

"I know more than you," Eric provoked. Councils widened their expressions. They thought this Minor crazy, either that, or very, very daring, and very, very confident, admirable.

Once more, Hibiyomi scoffed in ridicule. "You're really asking to get hurt," he said in a great tone, putting it bluntly. "Aren't you!?" he raised his voice. Councils jerked back. Walter stared with indifference, emotionless, arms crossed coolly, wrapped in boredom warmth. Eric did the same, yet he was pouring with emotion, eyes narrowed in determination, proof, not anger, but strife. Their spirits jumped from their eye sockets and ran, ran as far as they could, their wet feet coldly pressing against the hot, reverse ground, burning, burning with unsure feelings, burning with a resent that was filled with dark reigns of terror, fright, bashfulness. They ran, they ran for the train, they ran in the rain, the dark, rolling clouds of horrid whips, crashing lightning in the sky, scolding it, disciplining it much too many times. Life itself began to wander away, wires representing bonds, relationships cut severely, randomly, chosen from chance. Everything – everything fell apart, while it seemed to be that just everything remained the same. Glass mirrors of reality fell into broken shards, clattering into a many arsenal to the ground, glimmering with a sand dune of time, crashing into a broken speck of memory, lost words remained, whispering, whirling of rain continued – all this, and more, inside many hearts of people.

Quickly, Hibiyomi turned, and shot fright with invisible, mental and unintentional bullets. He turned, he spiraled, he ran. He reeled in his fist, and then, he punched. He punched as his punch of a million strikes was blocked – blocked by a confident hand, stalled by a purposeful, amazing, prodigy palm. Eyes – they narrowed. Hearts- they skipped beats, much too many beats, drained of compassion. A sense of every man for himself began. Then, with a counter, Eric reeled his own kick and barely missed Hibiyomi by inches, backing the council member backward. Both eyes narrowed into grudges – slits at each other. "Pretty strong," Hibiyomi complimented with no meaning. What had really gotten into him? People would like to know. "It seems you're just dying to fight, Kahibi Eric," Hibiyomi spoke with an invisible, nonexistent grin of mockery. This put a stop to many people's hearts, and filled many more others with fear, a fear that consumed more than a thousand knives ready to dive into your skin, your body, your bones, your _veins_, gushing at your brains, your life, your legs, your arms, your _everything_ as your life slowly leaked out in lifeless tears that had been forgotten to be shed, now paying off their debt with a bloodstain luster, a forgotten being washed away with the tides of blood. 'So, then, why don't we?" Hibiyomi suggested.

"Hibiyomi," Hanabikai finally found his voice, daring himself as well, just like Eric had done. "What're you saying?" he demanded. Hanabikai's eyes narrowed meanly. Hibiyomi turned his head, stared at Hanabikai. The Fire Council's confidence quickly retreated before shattered, before split into a thousand pieces, an inability to repair.

"No," Eric stopped Hanabikai's thoughts. Hanabikai, surprised, stared into Eric's eyes. He was amazed at the levels of confidence, of fearlessness inside him. Even Hanabikai didn't have this kind of level – not even in his five-hundred-plus years of life! He had never experienced it, nor had he ever seen it! Until now. "If Hibiyomi wants to fight me, let him."

Now he was speaking madness! "Eric!" Tsukansu had to protest, stepping up. His triangle of brown hair shifted in movement. Scolding eyes narrowed, voice suddenly and unexpectedly loud. Hibiyomi did not turn to show his prowess. He would now save it, save it for some _real _damage, some _real_ hurt.

"I will not back down," Eric replied immediately with certain automaticity. "I will prove that fighting without a purpose is an incorrect way to go."

"Hold on- hold on!" Derek just had to protest. "Don't you think fighting is out of the blue, maybe?" the tanned, black-haired boy shot out loud, getting over his emotion just like his childhood had taught him.

"No," Eric bluntly answered without looking at Derek. He could feel his teammate about to protest even more, even more with words that were pointless to him at this point; both sides had already had their minds decided. It _will _happen.

"Maybe after this, I will 'calm down' as you say," Hibiyomi commented. This brought more people towards the idea. However, they still managed to think that such a way was wrong, incomplete, out of the blue and totally random, extreme, almost. No, not almost, in fact, it was much past extreme. It was extreme multiplied by a hyper of five! Maybe, maybe even ten! Maybe… maybe? Maybe not. Maybe it was _not_ so random. Maybe it was not so extreme. Maybe, just maybe, it was the _perfect _idea. "Eric-san," the black-costumed council of shadow turned to stare deeply into the teenager. His attention was caught, with will. It showed no openings of weakness, just pure confidence, pure determination that would not be stopped, clearly showing Eric's beliefs. "I will teach you something more important than the concepts of your Half Spirit. I will show you… that you've shown too much of it." There went the crazy saying again, bursting in the air like a rocket's red glare. "Let's go," he demanded. "Now."

With that word, Hibiyomi turned back and began to walk into the hallway again, filling more fear and panic into councils' hearts, masked face frowning in an unsure feeling of uneasiness. "Hibiyomi!" one scolded.

"Be quiet," the walking council snapped. The voice was immediately shunned, exiled, pulled back.

Eric, stepping forward, seemed to be stopped by the dragging stares of Yomi Derek. Behind the black-haired boy lay a distorted, irregular crack on the wall that would remain unfixed. In days, it would heal itself. "I have to do this," Eric explained. Derek, stopping his pleading of eyes, pulled back. His eyes widened in question. Walter stared, showing no entry to his thoughts, to his emotions. Arms crossed in front of their respective body in defense, protection of some sort. "To prove him wrong," Eric went on. His voice, steady and strong, put belief into people's hearts. He began to walk away from Derek, who did not seem to beg and plead any longer with his dark eyes.

"How pointless," Hibiyomi muttered loudly on purpose under his breath. The two continued to walk, and stares, almighty stares watched their backs as they trailed off, not caring if the councils and Minors followed or not. Something big was about to begin. Something… off the charts.

Moments later after preparation of spreading gossip, the notice took to a large, extensive room – bigger than the one Teresa had been training in. It was wide, very, very wide – like a huge stadium filled with much too space. It was like this room had been built for this very battle of two beliefs that finally, finally intersected like a looping X of infinity.

Two hallways lead to the arena-type field. Plaster orange and darkness surrounded everything, just like everything else. Moldy orange was darkened, dimmed like the no-lights of polluted night. Darkness was swept into the corners of the room, blinding the pyramids of the room and creating further, apparent limits. From one narrow hall came the Councils, nervous and not quite ready to watch this… this _Minor _head off with a council! It was still outrageous to some. Others were indifferent. However, one thing was for certain. This would be a battle to remember for the rest of their lives. One filled to the thirsty lips with importance indeed. Relativity was on, a hundred percent. From the other hallway came the Minors, the majority of them, anyway. Teresa had still been training. She had still been working on this – this new move that she hadn't been able to master for three days!

Eric and Hibiyomi stood on their respective sides, Hibiyomi at the Minors' hall side, while Eric remained at the Councils' hall side. They positioned each other far away yet in front of each other, just a great distance away. Horizon was full of limit, yet the room was barren, empty without furniture – or people in these many, many years. All those years, these councils were confined to their one and only room. However, by far, this room now was one of the few gigantic, titanic rooms of the dimension. Although, even so, they seemed to be pulled out of the hat at random, just for the purpose of convenience! Amazing was this!

Eric… Hanabikai thought as he stood at the threshold of the end of the hall, fingers and limbs tense with a timid coy, a shifting emotion of anxiety, nervous stomachs churning and churning with acidic liquid, not quite at the level of nausea yet. Hanabikai stared at the Minor's back, as if he had turned away from him, the council now unwanted. The council's eyes sparkled with sympathy. What have you gotten yourself into?


	96. Chapter 96

Darkness continued to churn, a mixture of broken shards of light – a hellish ebony domination. Don't let him kill you, Eric, Minoa thought as she stared at the backside of the Minor, turned away from them as if he were ignoring them. She sighed, hopeful. Then, turning to Shintenmaru, she finally remembered something. The red-haired Minor looked back. "How did sealing Jeremy's links go?" she asked, timid to nature.

Shintenmaru looked down, disappointed. A distortion of light began to show itself. "Not so good," he answered, voice grim, as if drained from the selfish tentacles of boredom. "Even with all my regained power, I can only seal about two percent of them in. His links' resistance is far stronger than any I've ever seen. The plan was a failure."

Minoa, processing everything into her mind, looked down as well. She exhaled a tiny, exasperated breath, one that remained hidden in secretion to even the most acute of ears. "I see," she said in a depressing, droned voice. "No matter," she began. "It just gives us all the more reason to get _their_ help anyway." Shintenmaru, too, began to look on the bright side.

"Yeah," he let out bluntly. "Also, where is Teresa?" Shintenmaru asked seriously, almost as if he were snapping at her. "I don't see her anywhere at the other hallway."

Teresa, amused, scoffed. "On the lookout as always?" she said friendlily. A smile couldn't help but grow on her face in a short, miniscule manner.

"I didn't ask for small talk; answer the question." Shintenmaru's voice was long and demanding, a no-joke commanding voice. Teresa's eyes broadened, surprised.

"She's working on her new move," Minoa replied, voice now as serious as the Life Council's. "She'll find us later," she said with a sudden secrecy, a dull stare to the widened, large room that seemed to have no ends but its half-eaten walls. She no longer took her stare upon Shintenmaru. Because of his snappiness, she had become bored of him, just like she her voice had become bored of him.

"I see," he answered finally.

On the other side of the room, towards the Minors' hallway, Lance, the Metal Minor turned. "Teresa's not here," Lance muttered, voice tense, face tightened. People's confused looks flashed all around in their respective darkness.

"So?" Mark answered, voice impatient. "We'll wait for her," he suggested, crossing his arms meanly in front of him. His hidden stare remained hidden, a blank secrecy among the shadows and orange, tight walls. You could feel a misplacement, as if something were wrong.

"No, I'm finding her," Lance said, beginning to walk past him and everyone else. His eyes were closed to slits. He stuffed his hands in his pockets gruffly, watching the ground as if following a road, and as he did so, eyes of fellow Minors watched, tense.

"Why?" Mark asked, voice louder, shocking this time. The Earth Minor turned around to face Lance, who did not turn back.

"Because," Lance began as he turned to face the Minors. They all stared at him, and he stared back. His silver hair gave no elemental luster today, not in this deep, eternal dimness. He grew a proposed smile on his face. Everyone seemed to have a question all over their faces, brows puckering in curiosity. "That'd just be unfair if I didn't, wouldn't it?" Few questions faded from faces. "Don't worry," Lance began again. "I'll go. I won't be too long. Make sure to catch me up when I'm back."

He turned around and began to start for the darkness ahead once more. The eyes of his fellow Minors watched him. Watched his back until he faded away, watched him until he sunk deep into the depths of the hall, until he was a tiny, distant period from time, a barely seen, felt sensation of the body. The clicking of his shoes reminded them of his presence, reminded them of his words. Then, finally, when all was silent and all was gone, they turned, the nine Minors watching, waiting for the suddenly decided battle to start.

Eric, Marissa thought in worry as he watched his confident, flicker of face from far away. Her brows puckered in worry, a great anxiety that seemed to take place only at her eyes, her throat, her face, her mouth. What you said to me before, at the lake…

_"__So, why, in the history of earth, would you be the first petal to wither away? Why would you say that you have no value, but when you shrivel and die, you leave the team incomplete, valueless, empty and incomplete?"_

She remembered his words, so clearly, so cut, so pleasing to her ears. They acted like the final cool wave on a long, hot, set ablaze day that crawled up her legs, to her mind, and pleased her, calmed her, a sense to her. I won't be the first petal to wither away, Eric, she thought as if Eric could hear her thoughts. I won't, and you can count on that. She tightened her fist, a hope that he would win, a deep wish from the honest truths of her heart that he, somehow, would find a way to defeat a council. Don't lose, Eric. Prove just how powerful you are.

Meanwhile, Zack sneered, scoffed at Derek annoyingly with a huge, clowned smile that was so wide, it should've been broken. Hopefully, Derek would. Turning, the black-haired Minor gave a cold, cross stare at Zack, opposites staring at each other in two different reasons, of course. "What?" Derek demanded meanly, crossly. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked through ground teeth, eyes narrow, icy, unforgiving.

"Look what you started," Zack continued to snicker uncontrollably. His voice was up and down, up and down, a crazy beat to an unknown song. "They're fighting because of you," he explained, amused. His snickering grew louder, more noticed. Heads turned.

Derek's eyes grew more cross, meaner. His arms folded against each other, twisting in a detest for Zack, a tough, cool manner like the person Derek was. "Shut up," he growled through sharp, grit teeth. His arms' crossing seemed to tighten more, his body seemed more tense, more mean, bursting with anger and energy as if he were about to kill someone.

"Look," Zack said, a little calmer. "Someone can die!" he began his indistinctive snickering once again. It rang in Derek's ears like a crazed, stupid cricket in the middle of the night, a droned annoyance that just wouldn't, wouldn't stop, and there was nothing he could do about it. Derek, getting madder and madder, growled, scowled.

"Shut up!" he demanded louder this time, teeth ground to such a point where it was dangerous to do it any longer, eyes narrowed into hateful, grudged slits, arms crossed meanly, taking their anger out on each other. He growled once more. Zack continued to giggle like a little, immature girl. "Damn it, Zack!" Derek yelled out. His voice echoed through the halls. Zack wouldn't stop; he wouldn't even take a breather. Derek gave up on him, still angry and agitated to such a point, he would have to take Zack's life. It was amazing how this – this immature boy was a Base Minor! How idiotic! Derek thought in his own thoughts, trying to prevent his anger from spreading, trying hard to contain it so he wouldn't do anything he'd regret. They're fighting… he thought as he stared into the large room and away from Zack. He watched the crooked body of Hibiyomi, his mean stare glaring coldly. Then, he saw Eric's straight posture, his tall, proud self with his confident, determined eyes. Why are they fighting? For the purpose of me? "Why?" he said aloud this time. "It's pointless! Hibiyomi will just win! I know he will!"

"What?" Zack had to protest. "How can you be so sure?" he said finally without sniggling. Idiot, Derek thought in the corners of his mind. "Just because he's a council, or he's the counterpart of your element?"

"No," Derek said, finally calming down. His tense arms loosened. "Not because of something like that." Zack, surprised, blinked, not knowing what else to do, not in this dull blank dark anyway. "I grew up knowing that the only way to win fights is to show no weakness, whether it'd be physical or mental. This means no emotion. Hibiyomi clearly knows that. Eric shows it all the time," Derek explained. "The winner is clear."

"Is that really so?" Zack asked, interest piqued, for now, not the least bit annoying.

"This is definite," his rival explained. "It's a waste of time." Then, secretly, Derek thought to himself, Isn't it?

In the middle of the room, two opponents stared, two opponents that so used to be allies. What had happened? Just a simple conversation and a simple intercrossing of two purposes, of two beliefs. That was all. Hibiyomi opened his eyes in preparation, revealing a cold, unforgiving stare, as if one of detestation and hate, a cruel hate. "Now, I'll show you, Kahibi Eric," he began. His voice was like a robot, droning in a meticulous, persuasive and monotone manner. He tightly clenched his fists, and maybe his teeth underneath that blackish body mask. "I'll show you that showing too much of it is your key to a definite loss – your emotion, that is!" His face remained blank, dull, empty as a white piece of paper that begged, pleaded for someone with a pencil to at least scribble all over it. It began to get lonely without the presence of graphite. It was a powerful drug, that graphite.

"No," Eric denied from across the room. His voice was confident, revealing as Hibiyomi had said, booming off the walls in every random direction. Everyone heard him. "I'll show you, Hibiyomi," Eric promised, clenching his fists at his side. They hissed white smoke from their tiny slits between fingers. A heat began to blister within them. "I'll show you that in order to win, you don't have to hide emotions. It's the purpose you're fighting for that counts."

"Still ranting on about that, eh?" Hibiyomi called out in a blank, unrevealing tone. "Really…" the council let himself trail off. He bent his knees forward and brought his arms in a cross-motion. His eyes, they were blank. Lips were not found on his all-around mask of shadow, they were sealed. Slowly, he planned his strategy out as he watched Eric tense up as well. First, I'll wear him out by sensing his emotions and using them against him. Then, I'll break his links. "Let's go!" Hibiyomi cried out initiating the fight.

Eric… Hanabikai thought as he watched in a worrisome manner at the back of the Minor. I know I told you to use that move as a starting technique, but I don't know if it'll work on Hibiyomi… I never expected you to fight an opponent like this. The council sighed. Good luck, he wished. "I'm coming!" Hibiyomi cried out as he got the energy to his feet rather quickly, charging for Eric with no emotion, or so he says. Eric tensed. People, their eyes began to widen, to wish, to watch. Later, they worried.

PoVS

Lance walked through the darkened halls that seemed to want to envelop him in their selfish fingers as well. They shivered at his presence, some also scared. Indifferent emotions were made all about, cancelled out by negatives and positives. Black emptiness eroded the orange walls, these halls never noticed for their a hundred percent true color. It was amazing how you could see in this dark place with no light, barely. Not knowing where to go, Lance stopped.

He muttered certain silences to himself as he placed his hand delicately on the wall, feeling its cool, flat structure with his whorled fingers. Senses of detail… he thought, closing his eyes in focus. He cleared his mind of all thoughts and concentrated, focusing on only one thing: his hand, his sense of touch for detail, for now, his eyes of detail would not work. Then, suddenly, he picked up something. His spirit rose and exploded in notice as he gasped his eyes open. More vibrations are coming this way, he thought as he walked down the right side of the hall. Okay, he accepted. He continued his clicking footsteps across the dark area.

PoVS

Far away, in a distant, now forgotten land, white boots crunched the ground eerily. Blades of dewy, murky grass faded from life, bowing their heads in a finally respective manner. Sunlight – it was faint, unnoticed in this hellhole society. Their legs bent over, and reached for something on the ground.

Black Chrysanthemums, a hollow thought deposited in a dark, faded mind. The innocence and helplessness of the blackish petals on the flower on the ground amused the being in front of it. His shadow fell upon the flower as it swayed lightly, not knowing which direction to go, to escape. It was helpless. There's enough to make two more visits, the eerie being thought as he picked the first flower up from its roots with white, gloved fingers, delicate touches. The flower seemed to scream, to cry for help. It begged for another chance, but the being would not give it to such a thing. A smile grew beneath a shaded hood, and then, walking over to a nearby spot, began uprooting the other flowers of too, until a million cries of hell screamed, echoed in silence.

A last thought rang: How convenient.

PoVS

Hibiyomi charged. Tension rose in people's hearts as Eric seemed to wait, feet shifted, stance fixed. Sweat drops fell all around, nervously, a rain of importance shed by none other than the Minors and Councils. Hibiyomi thrust a basic punch. Eric jumped away from the attack, easily detected. As Eric fell back to the ground, Hibiyomi charged for him once again. Eric was soon caught in a frenzy of punches, a fury of shadowy fists flinging from every direction. He was barely able to dodge all of them as Hibiyomi made no noise. His body tossed and turned just to be able to make them miss, slightly. The speed was amazing. "I'll show you that you're showing too much!!" Hibiyomi kept saying over and over again. Eric seemed to have no reaction, no, it was more like, he had no time for a reaction. He had to focus, focus on not being caught by the punches, for if he were caught by one, he'd be caught by all the others coming after that.

"Damn it," Tsukansu growled underneath his breath. People shifted. "He's talking like a madman!" he called out silently; barely anyone heard him. His teeth growled; his eyes narrowed. Slowly, his hand unsheathed something. Metal clicked, prepared.

"Calm down," Minoa stopped Tsukansu. She brought her delicate hand to his shoulder to pull him back so he wouldn't do anything reckless. "This is Eric's fight, remember?" Minoa insisted. Tsukansu paused movement, immobile for just seconds. Seconds that meant the world to some. "After all, this is not the time to use those two."

Tsukansu sneered, wishing he could do something. His strong, masculine fingers let go of their hold from handles, automatically sheathing twins back into their respective homes. He growled once more, his face locked tight in an uncanny scowl.

Eventually into the fight, Eric reeled a normal punch and made a direct hit onto Hibiyomi's face. He toppled backward, caught by surprise, unable to do anything. Eric jumped into the air, skillfully and confidently. His eyes narrowed in demise, confidence that poured like laser beams. His clothes fluttered wildly, excitedly as he was brought back down to the air. Tension rose, excitement grew to the point where one could burst from their seat and yell, scream. Eric reeled in another skilled punch, this one going to be different as he fell towards Hibiyomi. His fist hissed with certain white steam, and Hanabikai crossed his fingers in hope. "Why can't you realize…" Eric began. "That emotion has almost nothing to do with combat!?" Few councils who realized something gasped in surprise. Hibiyomi took a while to get himself back up on his readied feet. Eric brought down a punch, and when Hibiyomi barely missed it by backing up, it lit up – on fire!

Gasps went all around. Things seemed to go slow-motion. Eric leaned in towards the punch, one foot having to lift itself from the ground behind him. The streak of fire from his fist burned and hissed at his face as he clenched his teeth, knowing that he had made a miss. Hibiyomi, not shocked at all, backed up, falling to his now prepared feet. Shocked faces went all around, from the council side, and from the Minor side. Different variations of widened eyes showed.

"His hand!" Zack cried out, teeth showing themselves as if they were proud of their pure-whiteness.

"Is on?" another voice speculated. "Fire!?" another finished the sentence.

"You're really surprised about that after all you've been through?" Mark asked, showing signs of speculated pitiable feelings. The Minors side brought their faces down to a comical, humorous depression, dark blue lines stretching down their faces in their own embarrassment. Their eyes became lines, thick lines that were much too large for their faces, faces that were much too large for their heads, and heads, heads that were much too large for their bodies to carry. Humorous music could've played right then and there. Walter, thinking of them as below him, scoffed crossing his arms as he stood against the orange plaster wall. He closed his eyes and listened – not watched for the fight. His eyes, if they had been open, would have been looking at the ground below him. He was far from the threshold of the hallway, though, but still, he could listen to everything they said. He had no need to watch.

"I'm not done!" Eric cried out, as he leaned in for the fire fist once more, lifting his left foot up and rotating it about his body, flipping almost to make a kick. He made the attack and changed it acrobatically into a new one, flipping around to make a kick from above. His foreleg began to set on fire as well, and with skillful block, Hibiyomi brought his forearm for defense. His eyes wandered to the cindering fire, and showed no signs of amazement. Eric was caught. More shocked cries and faces went about, like a web of them spreading all over the universe.

The defending forearm of Hibiyomi's stretched and turned into a shadow arm that snaked around Eric's leg, making sure there was no escape. "Because…" Hibiyomi began to answer Eric's demand. "Because you don't know what I've been through! Because you don't know what it's like!" With a hateful spin, Hibiyomi turned his body, dragging Eric's along with him. He turned and the shadow arm stretched, swinging him like a rope. Eric rotated Hibiyomi without say until the velocity became so great, Hibiyomi had to let go of his detestation grip. Eric's body slammed into the wall, and great smoke and large chunks of plaster spat out. A huge vibration shook the whole room, and gasps, they emerged from everywhere, every direction.

"Eric!" Daniel and Marissa cried out at the same time. Their eyes widened together in certain worry, and together, they leaned in carefully, wanting to see what happened. Eric… had he lost the fight all ready? Did he die from such a crazed spin of hate? What…happened?


	97. Chapter 97

Will-o-wisps of green swam in the air like, if possible, emerald pearls. Shreds of purple sliced the air, unstable, no direction whatsoever, lost in an absence of authoritative guidance. Darkness and light eroded each other, rubbing against each other in a friction competition of hate, a grudged tension that they wore off against each other, both sides never winning, both sides never losing. Drops of sweat flew and lingered in the air, hanging like the barbed wire of a fence, disallowing entrance without contact. Shouts and confident screams of determination clogged the wide, empty room. The jade spheres sliced apart, and then, grew back together. They would not die; they would not wither away no matter how carefully you struck them, how powerfully you blasted them. Their confidence was just as good as that of this Minor.

Miroku Teresa sliced, spun, twirled with her purple hair craze, holding the unstable, constant rays of purple energy in her left hand, slicing, dicing the spirits with an uncontrolled path, a dance of darkness. Her tired, exasperated gasps and grasps exhausted her with tedious fatigue, a tolerance slowly leaking out of her like a carelessly closed faucet. Dark, empty walls huddled distantly away; ceiling high, much too high for limits. She continued to slice them, sweaty, tired, yet not giving up. Even though I haven't even barely completed this move, Teresa thought as she twisted her body and wound her arms crazily in the air to prevent the wisps from getting too near. I'm going to finish it, she promised herself. Even though it's hard, even though I may fail, I have a purpose!

And Eric… she let her thoughts wander off. Thank you for making me realize this. You really are the main character in a story like this. She imagined his smile, his protective arms and actions. They would never cease; she knew this, and she would follow his footsteps. What was the point of having relationships with others, if you didn't even care enough to protect it? It's obvious you're more amazing than any of us, Teresa thought as she took one more tedious spin. Sounds of splicing in the air and regeneration repeated like a broken record to Teresa's now reckless ears. She continued frantically, swaying her arms in an unorganized pattern, a crazy, reckless rush of attack, a frenzy of no succession.

"You know, if you keep going at this rate, you'll collapse from an overuse of Half Spirit energy, right?" a voice entered the room. Teresa gasped. She had not expected someone – anyone to come and find her. She had not expected company at all. She wondered what he wanted. The ghosts whispered silently in a mixed dance pattern, communicating with aired footsteps. Teresa turned, found Lance at the threshold of the faraway door. He leaned his shoulder against the wall's spin and smiled. Half his body remained blanketed in a secretive darkness, a darkness that hid his legs, a darkness that hid his body, ate at it while he had no idea what was going on. He was like a floating body and face – a supernatural being of pastime death, levitating at the threshold of the door like a mystic fortune ready to be told, smiling an eerie, much too happy smile.

Retreating her tiresome glance, Teresa turned back. Her shoulders were slouched, unable to lift themselves from their sockets, her knees crumbled together for the little support she needed left. It was clear to Lance that the only thing that drove her more was her confidence. But with no guidance on how to do what she wanted, sheer confidence would not be enough. A raw determination was useless without something to put it into. "I have no choice," Teresa answered him. "It doesn't matter what happens to me anymore."

Lance took a while before he resumed speaking again. Suddenly, he made the quickest subject change. What he said had nothing to do with anything on Teresa's mind. "Your posture is perfect when you try to attack, yet the attack itself is unstable," Lance began. Teresa listened carefully, her eyes flashing in a broad circle as she suddenly found interest, suddenly found words that had meaning. "Your link is at the left hand, isn't it?" he went on to say, his voice continuing to drone on and on behind her. She froze, wanting to slice more, but couldn't. It was beyond understanding. "That's why you're forced to use your left hand only," Lance continued.

"So?" Teresa muttered without much strength. She was so tired out; she took heavy breaths between syllables, each tiny little vowel calling the point of her next breath. This would prove that the pen, or lips in this matter, is much more powerful than a sword. "That won't stop me," Teresa went on to say.

"Maybe that won't, but your attack will," Lance confused her. He knew this. "It doesn't have a definite shape yet," he explained.

"And…?" Teresa asked.

"Listen," Lance half-snapped. "I understand that you won't let things get in your way, but you have to realize that there are certain concepts you must fulfill in order to achieve what you want!" Lance scolded coldly. Teresa jerked her head up quickly, eyes stretching outward. She seemed surprised at the sudden scorn. Then, realizing that what Lance was saying was indeed correct, she scowled, bringing her stare onto the floor in disappointment, guilt, shame.

"Even so," she began once more. Her voice was more solemn, calmer. Her confidence – she locked it up, for now. "How are you helping me by telling me that?" she asked, actually asking for help now.

"Look," Lance began to instruct as he took the liberty to bring himself over. He walked towards her. His steps clicked godlily against the ground, a clinking hope for Teresa. She was, at some point, happy. 'It's obvious you want to slice these green things, right?" Lance asked, appearing behind her with a delicate, soft hand on her shoulder.

She widened her eyes in shock. Her lips failed to move, then, beginning to tremble, found the ability to form words once more. "Wait," she stopped him right then and there. "You- You can see them?" she asked, turning around past her shoulder. She met the innocent glare of Lance. Her eyes would cease to be amazed.

"You'd be amazed at what I can do," Lance said with a creepy, eerie smile. Teresa didn't know if she should be happy or totally crept out by that. Lance sensed this with his eye for detail, and then, amused, smiled once more, a happy, innocent grin. "It's my family's talent, Teresa. It's nothing to be scared about. Your family's Visible Darkness actually comes from a more advanced type of detailed senses from my family." Teresa seemed shocked, frozen in certain disbelief. "Well, you are from the Miroku family, correct?" Teresa gulped, and nodded. "Well, then."

Teresa cleared her throat, trying to regain comfort. "Okay, anyway, if you want to really break them apart, just slice them. Make your force-field energy into this kind of sword thing. It's a very basic thing, and considering your power, it should make a hell of a sword," Lance told Teresa, taking his hand off her shoulder. "Make a sword and keep it flowing in a telekinetic loop. In order to mend something so unstable…" Lance began to instruct. He held his arms out for example, and closed it to a sword-grip position. A sloppy fog of thick metal came out and eroded the air, hissing as it mystically crawled outward. Teresa watched it flow out in thick, puffy chunks with no luster whatsoever… somewhat. "You must give it a direction in which to go." Slowly, the metal churned and made itself into a constantly moving sword, a chainsaw motion of some sort. Now it looked perfect. Now, it looked useable. "Try it," he suggested. He drew back in the metal.

Teresa, after seconds, got the hang of it. "Good. Now you have it. All you have to do is practice using your left hand. Energy discharge won't come as easy with your right, being as there's no link to your power there." Teresa, saying nothing because of a breathtaking awe, began to slice the greenish orbs. One of them quickly died, faded.

"Lance," she said suddenly, catching her breath. Lance put a questionable look on his face. "Thank you," she turned to him, and smiled. Gratitude got to his expression, and Lance, he smiled back.

"No problem," he said quickly. "But we shouldn't waste anymore time."

"What do you mean?" she asked, interest piqued. Lance began to head for the door, leaving Teresa in curiosity. Then, he turned, looking back at her. A sensitive expression spread on her face.

"Eric's fighting Hibiyomi," he said seriously, a quick change of tone. Teresa's face froze. Blank thoughts burst from her mind.

"What?" she cried aloud.

Moments later, the two found themselves walking, casually and un-casually through the halls. Lance, taking careful measurements into finding where each path lead to, walked slowly, carefully, calmly. Teresa, frantic, wanting to hurry and filled with haste, didn't. "Are you serious?" she asked after Lance had explained to her what had happened. "That's the reason?"

"Yeah, he sure is amazing isn't he?" Lance said, feeling the walls for any slight clues of vibration other than their voices. "This way!" he called out as he ran down the closest hall. Teresa, bringing herself up to her energy quickly caught up. She followed Lance down the hall, the long, eerie hall. Eric… she thought. What have you gotten yourself into? Please… don't get hurt.

PoVS

After Eric had brought himself back to his feet, he continued with the punching. His convinced fist was set ablaze, hot flames hissing out in a bright dance of fire. Hibiyomi blocked easily, dodging to the left, the right, the left again, over and over in a repetitive sequence that failed to stop, that failed to give up. Everyone watched, eyes tense and filled with wonder. I'm… not… giving up, Eric thought as he continued with the punches. Each failure of a punch just drove him to work harder to make them succeed. I can't let myself – the others down! Hibiyomi seemed to be having fun, amused.

Hibiyomi… I know you care about them but… this is taking it much too far, Hanabikai thought, brown brows puckering in sympathy, worrisome eyes filled with moist, as if he were about to cry. A sudden clicking took place behind him. He, as well as every other council turned. Their eyes found Madasora, the Wind Council, slowly pacing away from them, walking slowly, carefully away. His clicking shoes brought them to alert that he was moving. Madasora… where is he going? Hanabikai thought as the councils watched him fade away into darkness.

Inside his mind, Hibiyomi sneered at Eric's efforts. It's easy to detect where his attacks are coming from by watching the direction of flame streaks as they pull back. How simple, he thought. His thoughts gave him no confidence, or any emotion for that matter. Emotions didn't even stimulate thoughts anymore. It took years of practice to achieve that. As for his emotion… Hibiyomi brought himself far away from Eric as the boy was caught in a binding of his feet in shadow. He pulled forward, then back as he noticed he couldn't move. His fist's flames were put to no use. They blazed on, wishing, hoping to touch someone, to damage something. Wishes like this would never be fulfilled.

Hibiyomi focused, bringing his stance together, comfortably as the shadows pressured themselves around Eric's feet. He couldn't move – at all. Confidence is easily brought down by attacks that don't even give you a chance. Eric, feeling the sudden burst of energy from below him, widened his eyes as the shadows underneath him blasted him outward, as if spitting him out like food that tasted of worms and dirt. The boy, shocked, was sent into the air where he was somewhat suspended.

"Tada Kage: Kamisori no Akuma! –Freed Shadows: Demon Razors-" Hibiyomi declared, charging his energy together. From the floor stretched more shadow, and those shadows – they churned and spread and dominated most of the room. People's shocked faces showed as Eric seemed to struggle in midair, somehow the pain still there after a long ten seconds. Ten seconds of hell, but now, he would feel even more hell. Good luck, wished most people. Others had no thoughts at all, minds emptied out.

I can't do anything in midair, Eric thought, one eye winced and teeth tightly ground. Damn it! Suddenly, sharp, thick needles blasted from the ground below Eric, ready to cut and slice him into tiny little pieces. People's tension stretched, connected, bound together for endurance before someone collapsed. Eric, watching the needles come slowly, proved his last thoughts wrong. A new idea springing into his mind, Eric brought his head more down and took in a huge gasp of air. No way! Hanabikai thought. Is he really able to…?

The needles approached, sharp screeching from below coming towards faster and faster. Just as they were half a foot away from Eric's confidence, Eric breathed out his huge, screaming puff of heat. The banshee high-pitched shrieks of the fire burst in the air, reddening the walls with a bright, orange light, blistering with heat and opposing the needles, burning them out. A bright cloud of red was in the middle of the room and lit up people's faces with awe. Mouths dropped open like open registers, proving that they held nothing of value to any bypassing robbers. Eyes emptied out and filled with a more blatant moist now, thanks to the crazed heat of flame. Eric's body was lit up in midair, and now, invisible in the bright light. It was like having a sun in the middle of the huge room that seemed like it could even fit a sun. Hibiyomi, not at all impressed, waited for the flames to die out. He narrowed his eyes, readying himself.

The flames soon died out, the dragon cries of blaze and heat dispersing into a non-luminary body once more. The evanescence of the fire finally died; and now, finding a good opening, Hibiyomi charged in. In a flash, he was right below Eric's face, and the powered audience, as well as Eric, widened their eyes after such a flash. "Die!" Hibiyomi cried out as he jeered a punch right into Eric's jaw, sending him flying upward in a vertical cartwheel. Cries of awe and names shot out, unheard. Shit! Eric thought to himself as the immense velocity of his spinning churned the contents of his stomach in a roller coaster that had no end, for when it reached the stop sign, it kept going, it kept going and going and going.

Another flash. Hibiyomi found himself above Eric now, midair, waiting for Eric's body to flip closer when finally – a huge, pummeling blow downward, sending him plummeting to the ground like a malfunctioning rocket in space, now blazing downward in a hellish shooting star. Eric landed into the ground with a horrid crack, a sickening boom with sending a huge cloud of dust upward, as well as great, enormous masses of plaster. The blow forced him to bluster out a huge exhale of knocked out air. He coughed, helpless, weak.

Hibiyomi let gravity bring him down and as soon as it did, he crashed right on top of Eric. Cries of a pained, demised teenager shout out from a titanic cloud of smoke that erupted with even more dust and plaster as the second presence plummeted downward. Audience's eyes widened, froze, waited. Fists clenched. "Eric-san!" Daniel cried out. Damn it! he thought clenching his fists and teeth together. He growled, and Kenneth, trying to calm him, put a delicate hand on his shoulder. A sympathetic look was caught in Daniel's eyes. Then, the redhead calmed down. Clenched fists and ground teeth loosened.

Inside the eruption of smoke, Hibiyomi was practically kneeling on top of Eric, knee inside his ribcage, playing with them like a xylophone. Pain shot through the teen everywhere, and despaired cries of torture the only thing the council and Minors could see, and that being a fact, they were scared. Hibiyomi's knee continued to jeer inside Eric's body. The teenager lay inside a hole of his own creation, a hole from his giant rocketing. Smoke surrounded them, a coffin of dirt, a coffin of fear. Walls of brownish gray puffs rolled around them like a twister, a tornado ready to tear them apart and shred them to pieces like a trash sheet of paper.

Coughing out blood in splotches at his side, Eric waited, tried to wash the pain away. "Have you come to yet?" Hibiyomi demanded in a loud voice as if Eric were ten miles away. Eric, eyes barely open and tired stared to his side, away from Hibiyomi. "Don't you realize that you can't beat someone like me?!" he droned on. Eric was helpless; he clenched his fists at his side, unable to lift his arm because of the pressure put on his whole body. Tired, worn out teeth clenched together, their pure whiteness that used to smile in a happy defense were now lost and destroyed inside. He said nothing. He didn't even breathe. "Or do I have to break your limbs in order for you to realize it!?" Hibiyomi demanded once more. "Huh!?"

The Fire Minor turned his head slowly. His eyes were slouched, effortless. His stare wandered to Hibiyomi's unforgiving, merciless ones as his legs and arms remained still. Then, with a growing amount of energy, the brown-haired boy narrowed his eyes, narrowed them and growled. Hibiyomi seemed amused. "I…" he spat out confidently once again. He leaned his head forward; he brought his arm to his side. "I'm not giving up!" Eric reeled in a sudden punch and thrust it towards Hibiyomi's ever so close face. A dark, ebony hand held the punching fist's anger and locked it up. It resisted and shook at first but then, finally, the closed palm drained the fist of all power.

"You don't stand a chance against me!" Hibiyomi cried out as he got up on his feet, dragging Eric with him. The Fire Minor called out as Hibiyomi took him for a ride again, swinging him just once this time with a normal arm and sending him flying to a nearby wall. Another whole was made. The third one in this fight. How many more will there have to be? The dust around them cleared as more dust piled from Eric's new position. A smaller indent was made this time, sending smoke hissing outward like spewing evil, malevolent thoughts out.

Eric dropped to the floor, preventing breaking his face by stalling his fall with his hands. Even so, he still took damage to his head, and quickly he brought it up, coughing weakly out a splotch of blood. His head fell back down again. Dust and tired marks spread all over him like an extrusive virus. Rocks of plaster rumbled downward in a slide. "You just don't get it, do you?" Hibiyomi shouted from a distance. Now, the only person the Minors and council couldn't see was Eric. However, the main thing they really worried about was Eric, anyway, so suspense continued to linger.

The Fire Minor brought himself up weakly to his feet. He brought a tanned arm to wipe away blood and spit from his face. A mean, unforgiving stare was brought about his eyes, using it to glare right at Hibiyomi as the clouds of gray around him dispersed into shreds of wisps. I'm not giving up… Eric thought in rising confidence. I'm not giving up my purpose, no matter what. I'm not accepting yours as the truth, and I will prove mine correct! Eric fixated his stance, readying himself, forcing himself and his body to operate its best, even though it was incapable of doing that. I'm not admitting that my friends – the ones I care about, the ones I _love_ are useless! I'm not going to let everything I proved right fall apart!

He imagined Teresa, her hopeless, depressed conversation and eyes. Daniel's concerned emerald glaze. Marissa's put down swaying hair and shameful eyes, staring at the clear, innocent waters of the lake. Walter's mean, secretive stare. "I'm not letting it go!" Eric yelled out, filling the whole room with his voice. People cheered inside their minds for his vengeance. Hibiyomi's eyes narrowed, accusing his attempts for being useless. Eric ran out from the cloud of gray, impatient to wait for it to clear for him. Teens jumped up and down in excitement, cheering for him. Others just stood watching. Walter was the exception. He just listened, indifferent of what happened. Marissa's eyes were cheerful, very, very cheerful. She held a fist up for a victory cry in the air. Daniel was tense, hand against the wall, nervous, tense drop of sweat rolling down his cheeks. Don't give in, Eric, he thought. Walter's eyes remained closed.

The Fire Minor continued to charge, clothes fluttering wildly, only time holding the answer on whether it was foolish to make a frontal attack. Eric reeled in a powerful punch, flameless. His feet were fast, not fast enough. His mouth screamed open, cries of determination, of confidence – something that wouldn't give up, like the luminous stars on the faces of the night sky, cheeks of the periwinkle clouds. Eric's eyes were like stars, too, shining brightly with his purpose in mind, nothing but his purpose that drove him the way he was. He shouted, he reeled, and then he… he –

Over.


	98. Chapter 98

Eric continued to run, a determination permeable pedaling his feet and reeling the looped chains of his ankles faster and faster, heart pouncing like angry claws of a tiger tantrum against his ribcage, pumping an angry, piercing confidence. His shoes clicked, clattered against the plaster ground, as if a pair of timid, coy teeth chattering, snapping crazily in open-close frenzy. He reeled his elbow back, a now flameless torch charging with not a fire outside, but a brushfire blaze inside – one of hot, sizzling anger, a hissing, blistering way to burn. Sweat poured from his body, tired, dust marks caking him, clinging to him as if dragging him down with their nonexistent weight.

Hibiyomi shifted his feet in the darkness. He waited, prepared. Narrowing his eyes, he meticulously began to strategize. Right now, he's focused on defeating me, he thought. He won't notice an attack from behind; especially his own shadow. Spreading his arms out on the side, Hibiyomi commanded with his full will, not a sediment of regret inside his flowing stream of life. Eric ran, eyes pulsing with determination, legs shuffling against each other in bravery. Then, quickly and oh, so suddenly, he was knocked down, a sudden flash. His head was knocked to the left, his body was flung away. His feet stopped running. His punch's direct charge stopped. Eric slid on the floor, taking the pain and making it nothing again, staring hard at where it had come from. Nothing was there; only dragged dust and darkness remained at his sight. The question everyone who was watching was asking was the same question inside Eric's mind, pulsing with a tedious enthusiasm, blustering with permanence in and out of his ears.

Everyone leaned in closer, as if their eyesight had suddenly blurred, gone bad. Eric, wiping his mouth and still caught up in awe, watched the position where he was hit, and only one thing remained there, only one thing to be suspicious about – his own shadow. It had disconnected from him, as if it had disbanded from its feet, a missing, nonexistent figure standing before light to create it. A perfect face, perfect, broad shoulders, a perfect stance – it all lead to Eric's replicated figure. People, seeing this, gasped, shocked, others were not. Others had seen this trick before. This trick of disconnected relation, something you could really call your own, something you could really have stick with you – gone, strewn away by a gust of devilish wind. And now, this devilish wind turned the relationship against him, the shadow rising from the floor slowly, taking itself and moving upward above the ground as if it were being peeled back up. Ebony head and body began to form, broad, stretched shoulders and dark biceps, a darkness pair of legs, feet – hands. Invisible, hidden eyes glared as its new owner stood up tall, strong, ready.

Eric, eyes shuddering in shock, began to mutter bare words from his dry, strained lips. "W-What?" he asked himself confused. He wanted to look backward, wanting to look for his own shadow that should've been behind him – but he couldn't. He couldn't take his eyes off of this – this masterpiece of shadowy sculpt, this cloned replica of him that appeared from a deep nowhere, the greatest depths of nonexistence. However, he did feel something was missing – something part of him was gone. He didn't feel… complete; it was as if something inside his soul had been stripped away from him and hidden away in secrecy.

"If you're so confident, Eric, then I shall show you something just as confident as you – and at the same time, bringing you down," Hibiyomi muttered in confidence, spreading his arms away from each other as far as he could, as if their distance controlled the capabilities of the shadow. The now mobile silhouette was free to work on its own – no longer imitating, copying the moves of someone else. It no longer needed to be a blatant act of mimicry, discontinuing the fact that it had to be an impression of one other than itself. Now, the puppet strings were sliced, and its limbs – they felt so fresh, so free, so liberated; its eyes – they felt amazed, awed, able to move their brows as they wished. Eric, now scared of what he had controlled for so long, shuddered, unable to move, yet confidence still burned in his eyes. He wouldn't let a _shadow _get in his way. He wouldn't, he repeated in his mind in a slow, convincing chant. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't. The shadow, stumbling in its first few seconds of mobility, fixed its stance unevenly. Eric got up on his feet, eyes unable to keep away from the copy of him – something so close to him now forced against him.

"No way," he muttered softly, words whistling in a whisper so bare you could almost hear the tiny pronunciations, miniscule breath of the "o"'s. Hibiyomi said nothing. Silence filled the room, yet a pulsing message kept Eric's ears busy. Shifting his feet and weight together, Eric awoke himself from the mesmerizing trance of his now solid shadow, who still, somehow in someway imitated him, not knowing anything else but that. He calmed his heart, which weakly enraged itself in frenzy, crazily shooting at his body, his ribs, his chest. Eric took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Opening his eyes quickly in a flash, he sent out a burst of red flame, a one-shot only offense.

The shadow imitated once again, as if it had no idea how to act on its own, needing directions for its own will. It breathed in a breath, too, and shot out a burst of fire – however, simply put, this fire was not set a blaze red like Eric's. No, this fire – it was, dark, dark with a demonic touch to it, a black shot of flame that collided with the red. Spark and dark blistered against each other, burst into a cloud of smoke dividing the two sides. A long rumble shook the walls of the room. Heated tension, worry rose. Eric would not let something so simple stop him. He'd take out his own shadow – if he had to; but he really didn't expect anyone to die in this fight.

Everyone watched as Eric ran into the cloud of smoke, as if he could hide himself. Hibiyomi solemnly mocked his efforts inside his mind, mentally. The shadow, waiting, watched closely at the cloud of smoke. Then, zooming from the front, Eric came out, and reeled a punch forward. The shadow dodged, and Eric, keeping punches thrusting upward from below, took small breathing breaks in between every punch, each one lasting about a second. Hibiyomi thought in success. It's working, he told himself. He's not fighting as confidently anymore; it seems he's having a struggle. Perfect, he gave his own gratitude to his mind.

Hanabikai watched his constant slow and powerless uppercuts. Eric… why is he punching so…? Suspicion lingered in his eyes. Brows leaned toward each other, trying to meet in great wonder, piqued curiosity rising beneath them. Eric continued with the punches, and during one of those short breaks he took, the shadow found its opening, and went for it. A dark, ebony punch made its way to Eric's chin, and so hard it was hit, being that it was one similar to Eric's, the real boy coughed out a streak of blood into the air. The teenage boy was sent towards the ceiling, wiping his mouth in midair. The redness smeared onto his forearm as he shot his glare down. He met eyes with his shadow, stare of betrayal meeting him. Out of similar detestation, Eric breathed in a long, deep breath. Unseen eyes of the shadow widened; its legs seemed to be unable to move now. Then, something clicked in Hanabikai's mind. No way…! So that's it! He would have snapped his fingers if he had remembered.

"Maina Ka: -Minor Flames-" Eric began. Hanabikai's eyes widened in anticipation of thought. He took an exciting, emotion-jerking breath. Eric ground his teeth for a second, preparing, gritting, holding, sparking. "Ryu Manako! –Dragon Eye-" Separating his rows of teeth, he spit out a huge, rolling sphere of flame that glowed with a bright, orange sun. It filled the whole room with bright, luminous light, its luminary body blistering with low heat, yet intense, burning light. The orange-yellow ball came closer, as if a million times bigger than Eric's own body. Then, it crashed; it exploded onto the ground as the shadow faded away into nothing. The flames turned into a wide brushfire on the ground, crackling, whispering away sediments and rocks, shooting between them like a decomposer of non-living things, if possible. The fourth indent of this battle was made.

I get it now! Hanabikai noticed. So he purposely pretended he was weak and kept making weak uppercut attacks so he would give multiple chances for the shadow to strike him with an uppercut. When he finally did get hit, it sent him flying above the ground, which ensured that he would not get damaged by his own attack, and a very good position for a fire attack because you don't have to worry about the space limitations put on by the horizontal surface beneath you. On top of that, he used Dragon's Eye, an attack of the Fire Element that gives off more light that heat. It never expected Eric to know how to do such a thing, Hanabikai thought. He must've really practiced a lot for the past three days if he can control the heat and light contents of the fire of which he breathes. Hanabikai was proud of him. He's brave, too, sacrificing himself like that just to get high enough in the air. Normal jumping couldn't manage that height. He remembered the image of Eric getting punched by, technically, himself, as he sent a stream of blood into the air and winced from the pain. That must've hurt a lot, considering the shadow actually had Eric's equal physical strength, and since Eric had worked on his body most of his life – almost.

The orange, yellow flames hissed away quickly, diminishing into nothing but white smoke hiding underneath cragged, spread out plaster rocks. Eric slowly fell back to the floor, landing on his feet easily. He recoiled on the ground, and then slowly brought himself back up. White heat fogged around him. The confidence went back to his eyes. It had never been worn down in the first place. Hibiyomi needed a new trick. He closed his eyes, accepting his bravery for what it really was. But he wasn't going to give up this fight yet. "Why, Eric?" he asked with blinded eyes. "Why do you work so hard just to prove your point?"

"The same reason you do," Eric answered after a short, minimal pause. His stance was prepared from shifting feet and fixing weight, just in case. He held out one arm in preparation. Hibiyomi opened his eyes in a flash, as if he had just been shocked. That was, in fact, the first time he showed emotion from his eyes in a long time. "Because I've lived through mistakes," Eric went on. "…and I believe my reason is right." Hibiyomi was caught, speechless. What was wrong? Was he letting go of his purpose. No! Hibiyomi denied in his mind. "So now, let's see which one of us has the better insight," Eric declared resumed battle.

The Shadow Council stared, wiped away all emotion from his features. He relaxed his shoulders in their tensed sockets, and sneered. "Is it not obvious all ready?" Hibiyomi said, and with that, in the next second, he was off. He met Eric quickly at the indenture on the ground and began kicking, punching each other wildly. Eric charged a punch – blocked by a kick. Hibiyomi tried a low kick – missed by a jump kick's attempt, which was soon stopped by backing up. Then, charging another punch, Eric was caught up in Hibiyomi's grip again. With a third spin, Eric was crashed into another wall. Fifth indent in the battle. Smoke hissed away rather quickly, as if wanting the swiftest escape. Hibiyomi appeared before the teenager before he could move a finger. He had his dark, shadowy hands at the boy's throat. He couldn't move.

The hall of where the Minors were located was right next to the scene, and how lucky they were to get such good seats! Dark, ebony fingers wrapped tighter and tighter, slowly and surely, as if restraining themselves from the throttling of an eighteen year old boy that just wanted to protect the ones he loved. Damn it! Eric thought in his mind, unable to do anything. His brave arms were brought to Hibiyomi's one hand, and even then, with his physical strength, he couldn't pry them off of him. The more he resisted, the more the hand closed in, so he eventually gave up. One eye winced; the other eye stared, as if hoping, wishing Hibiyomi would go away, willing to stay alert just in case a miraculous event occurred and he didn't want to miss out on it. Zack leaned outward from the threshold of the hallway and began to yell indistinctively. "Eric! What're you doing just standing there! Do something!" he cried idiotically, as if it were that simple.

"Eric! Don't give up that easily!" Daniel begged. Kenneth, behind his brother, seemed surprised. Daniel was never the one to shout, nor was he the one to call out during fights like this. Had he really changed all that much from scared little boy to a mature, intelligent, braver fourteen year old boy? He was, of course, the youngest Minor – but he was the smartest, and one of the most mature.

Eric turned to see their faces, body inside a huge, circular denture. He said simply nothing with his eyes, and that shunned their words. Then, he turned back, weak, to Hibiyomi, who ignored cries of confidence, of pep talk, cheerleading, he called it in his mind. How pointless. "Eric…" Hibiyomi whispered into Eric's ear, leaning in closer to the boy's face. Eric's eyes did not shudder in fear; they did not cry and tear for forgiveness and mercy. They just waited, glared, fearless, brave. "You, as well as the other Minors saw the Swamp of Mystery as a place of death, a place to be feared," he simply stated. Eric wondered why he was bringing this about now. Was this really the time to be conversing about this? "But… to me, for the first decade and some of my life, I called that place comfortable – I called it my home!" He narrowed his eyes. He brought Eric away from the wall in surprise and pummeled him back into the crack, widening and deepening it.

"What!?" Zack just had to call out. "You're just spitting out crap now!" he protested angrily, facial features comical. Many Minors tried to calm him. He did not listen. He continued to shout. "Eric, don't just listen to this crazy psycho! Get up! Beat him down!" Zack continued to scream in a shrill cry. "Do it!!" he went on.

Hibiyomi scoffed at Zack's efforts. Reeling in his other hand for a punch, Hibiyomi carefully aimed for Eric's face. He didn't notice he had loosened his grip around his neck. Then, thrusting his fist towards the boy's face, Hibiyomi missed due to Eric's quick thinking and dodging. Hibiyomi's eyes widened, shocked. He couldn't help but show emotion there. Eric moved away from Hibiyomi's throttle grasp, and ran swiftly behind the council. Surprised shocks went all around. Eric took a few deep breaths, stopped. "You underestimate me," Eric cried out. "You loosened your grip. You're going too easy on me, Hibiyomi." The Fire Minor flashed a confident smile, as if he and the council were friends. That one smile – it made more smiles spread across the people of who were watching; everyone believed in him now.

"Is that so?" the council asked, pulling his blackened fist as if it had been deeply charred back to his side. Rocks rumbled outward as he did so, and clinked as they reached the ground in a pebbled hail. "In that case, I shall be more serious with you!" he called out, angry. He sneered. Eric sneered back. Hibiyomi thought carefully in his mind. I'm done playing around with him, he told himself. Time to seal his links like I planned. Eyes narrowed in plot. Now, if I remember correctly, there should be one at his stomach, throat, hands, mouth. I know the perfect plan to do it, too. With that last thought, Hibiyomi soared into the air and came back down towards Eric's spot, charging a deep punch into the ground. Eric jumped away just in time to stare in awe at the deep denture Hibiyomi's impact had made into the ground. The sixth indent in the battle.

Amazing, Eric thought, eyes still staring in brave admiration. Hibiyomi jerked his hand back from the ground, making it rumble, somewhat. Rocks fell out as he pulled back, and stood up straight. He narrowed his eyes at Eric into hateful, blatant slits.

As the Minors watched the fight continue, few sounds went on. Then, suddenly, as if a cry for vibration, shoes clicked closer behind them. They seemed to march toward them, and quickly, the footsteps turned heads. Zack, especially; yet still not Walter, for he had not opened his eyes. It was like he was asleep during the whole battle; however, he really was not. The truth was, he was listening. He knew what was going on by just that. This is how skilled he was. Turning, they found Madasora slowly walking casually towards them as rumbling punches shook the hall with a greedy vibe. "Madasora-sama?" Zack had to be the first one to speak.

A crooked smile and the twittering bird neared the nine Minors, three missing. "Hey," he greeted them. The bird chirped, jubilantly. Other eyes stared, silent.

"What're you doing here?" Zack asked, eyes folded into a blank, round curiosity.

"What? I can't visit?" Madasora asked, his crooked, bent grin growing larger, as if spread more. Zack blinked, not knowing what to say, or, better yet, feeling that what he _wanted _to say was inappropriate.

"Fine, then," Zack muttered, half-closing his eyes unhappily. He pouted his cheeks immaturely. "Just let me ask you one thing," he asked, as if asking for a password. Madasora's eyes blinked open, and asked the question with his innocent, childish stare. Others watched, one listened.

"What?" he continued to blink. The pure, sinless bird chirped with injustice in its song. Its wings danced about, fluttering angelic, celestial feathers around in a spread curtain of stainless maneuver. Tiny, skinny little feet danced about, taking turns to stance themselves on his shoulder. The dance amused Madasora, tickled him almost.

"It's just that… um…" Zack moved his eyes to the right. He avoided eye contact, and was kind of nervous to ask what was on everyone else's mind. He sensed the impatience in Madasora's mind. He was used to it by now. "Okay," he said tensely, loudly. "What did Hibiyomi mean when he said when he saw the Swamp of Mystery as his home?" Zack smiled nervously, tensely, eyes closed in a childish manner as he scratched the back of his head lightly in habit. A giant sweat drop of tension grew, animated on the side of his face. His broad smile wouldn't seem to stop. When, Madasora just stared and didn't answer for quite a long while, Zack answered himself. "Oh, forget it," he said anxiously. He waved his hands in front of him in a "forget it" motion, another habit. "I know why, I know why. It's just as I said before, isn't it?" People stared to him, carefully listening, wanting to know. "He was talking gibberish!"

"You're really trying to get me to take your word for that, breezy idiot?" Derek came out from nowhere with Derek's new nickname for Zack, muttering his words loudly and putting an end to Zack's anxiety. The brown-haired boy began to fume. The black-haired one didn't seem to care. Then, he peered his eyes toward Madasora, a happy, smiling face beaming back. His eyes pleaded to tell the story, and Madasora, listening to Derek only, followed. Zack felt the depressive marks of animation pour down against him as he slouched his back. His face went comical. He wondered once again why he was always the one being picked on, ignored.

"No," Daniel accused Zack's answer of being wrong. "There's something more," he turned to the conversation. He faced the two Minors and council as the rest stared, one still silent and listening. The redhead boy, the youngest of the group stared with a hardcore emerald glare. "Something more we don't know." It's the same with Eric, too, Daniel thought, imagining his serious features, happy, smiling face.

"Daniel's right," Madasora admitted. "However, it's a long story." The bird continued to chirp at his right shoulder.

"Fine," Zack accepted, turning back to the fight. He heard the sound of missing impact and blows, blocking and hiding and contact. He saw nothing but darkness for a second. "It doesn't matter. Hibiyomi will get beat down, anyway," he muttered confidently, having faith in Eric even though he barely knew the guy. All he knew was that it was Minor vs. Council, and when it came down to it, Zack was a Minor, so he would root for the Minor fighting.

"No, you don't understand," Madasora said, calmly. Zack turned back around to blankly blink at them, bleakly staring in piqued curiosity. Madasora's features were tightened to a serious knot. "You see, Hibiyomi had a psychotic, crazy father who was locked up in the Swamp of Mystery," he began to explain. Everyone listened, closely, including Walter. He looked around for a second, watching all the faces staring at him, pleading at him to tell the rest of the story. He got straight to their eyed commands, and took a deep breath, continuing. "Even more than that, his mother was one who was down on the luck in terms of love. Everyone she found turned her down, because she kept making the wrong choices to trust boyfriends so easily on the first rendezvous. She finally got blinded enough to get married, and she really believed her husband loved her. Soon, she was pregnant, and soon, she blinded herself into thinking that she loved the man. Then, when the husband got psychotic…" He stopped to stare around the room once more. Then, he continued. People were paying closer attention more than ever. "He had to get locked in the Swamp of Mystery. His wife pleaded and begged and claimed that she couldn't live without them, so yeah; she got locked up, too. Eventually, she gave birth in that hellhole, and Hibiyomi had to spend most of his years in that place. Because of that, he was exposed to all the death, blood, hate, detestation, grudges at such an early age. He finally 'figured' out that to be strong, you had to show no weakness, no emotion because otherwise, you'd give away your feelings, your weakness. That's how he survived. He eventually got out as a teenager and left his parents behind by becoming one with a Free Spirit; his parents were crazy enough anyway. Why not leave them there?"

Madasora stopped. Everyone froze. No one even thought that Hibiyomi could have such a psychotic past. Wow, was the thought in everyone's mind. "And then, when Hibiyomi and I were and another council were sent on an investigation to the Swamp of Mystery…" Everyone leaned in closer, and then, quickly, Madasora began the flashback. The flashback to why Hibiyomi was the way he was today.


	99. Chapter 99

"You see, the thing is, Hibiyomi only wants to help," Madasora began to explain before explaining his past. Confused gestures fluttered like brazen wings all around, an ashy, unorganized jumble of interior. Soft murmurs of doubt grew, blossomed with their tiny, gossipy petals blooming into sinful color. "He goes way too far, but that's because he wants to make sure that nothing ever happens like what happened to him before again." Soil grew cold; sunlight dark. Source of life for the whispered flowers were now dead and buried underneath the undergrowth to rot and decompose in their once recollected beauty. Now that their lives had been put to an end so quickly, there wasn't much to say, really, no tears of past childhood to shed, no regret for unmade sins and disillusions uncreated. There was no life to grieve for, no time long enough to mourn.

Then quickly, just as these flowers withered away into the dry, barren opportunities that lacked moist and texture, they listened, listened quietly with their quivering ears against the wind, paid attention – for they had no choice to whether they liked it – or not.

_Lonely was this day. The pale, distant sunlight paid its respects for the dead night's funeral. It surrendered itself to high suspenseful mists, a serpent's mystifying pupil in the socket of clouds, a roar of sunrise from far away, sharp teeth of morning dew glowering with invisible lust. Scales of ice cold temperatures cut the air and cracked it, a playful fingering of soft, newborn breezes against long, aging grass. All remained silent, sad, damp. Heat did not exist, not even in the innocent whites of the celestial halo that glared itself and eyed into the patched forests tightly sewn into the blanket of earth's crust._

_Gates closed with a rusty clatter, a sealed good-bye. Lips shunned themselves, careful, not to be foolish enough to make any noise, not even a whisper, not even able to let out the vibration of one's steady, rocking heartbeat. Silence filled this early morning air, as if all sounds, all steps, all voices had been put out like heads of fire on burning brick buildings, finally extinguished by roaring beams of water. Not even the tiniest, most miniscule twitter of an innocent robin bird existed, the soft winds rustling, yet somehow not rustling at all, through the sifting bushes and trees. The forest was mute, a deep, thick mute that seemed too surreal, too dream-like. There came not even a crisp crunch of grass, not even a light wave of lake._

_As if caught with the silent haze of a curious infant conceived by the forest itself, three sets of feet showed their prowess against the ground. Lightly they stepped, feather-like, they moved. Distorted fingers of shadow beneath shady bottoms of trees were slit by shards of light. Canopies erupted with a soft, soundless touch. Delicate wings of birds bristled by, solemnly, unnoticeably. Sound was indeed cemented over. "Hey," Madasora calmly murmured in Hibiyomi's direction. The team continued to move towards the shadows, meticulous of any slight movements; they would not let even the perished chirps of birds and helpless rustles of despaired branches leave their ears without heavy consideration. "Are you sure you're going to be all right for this search, Hibiyomi?" he asked sympathetically. The council had grown up in this place after all. This is the first visit back._

_Hibiyomi closed his eyes, as if trying to deal with uneasiness in his heart, an unbalance in his mental capabilities. Shut eyes twitched themselves open, and then came the braying, deep yet whispered answer: "I'll be fine." Hanabikai followed the two, caution filling a steady balance of arms. Rustling of a brisk bush made the first noise of the early sunrise, made by a council's brushing of leg. Sweat drop strolled down in nervous tension. Madasora could tell Hibiyomi was half-lying._

_Minutes – hours passed of nonstop searching, uninterrupted low steps on the even lower grass. Before they knew it, they were almost to the opposite exit of which they had entered. Everyone's tension had grown ten times larger, ten times more than itself. Scarce was the courage to even take a breath; sparse was the movement and clear-mindedness. The Swamp of Mystery began to chirp its eerie, enigmatic cries- chirps of a bird? Or chirps of death? Dark days rumbled from above, and now, swimming like three detective, paranoid fish in the murky, fresh cut sea, they ventured onward, walking, pacing, making sure that each one of them was just centimeters away. Centimeters away from another life form, another similarity; just in case. "We haven't found anything except plants for hours," Hanabikai whispered, making sure not to speak too loud. Madasora nodded, lips still sealed. Sealed for hours. Hibiyomi said, breathed nothing._

_Then, suddenly – laughing. Laughter of amusement, as if someone had been having the best time of their life, yet having a dreadful one, too, a sick, twisted fun. Evil, devious cries continued and shook the canopies of murky trees. Heads turned in fifty directions, this way, that way, searching, watching, eyes widened, broadened horridly, shocked. Petrified faces filled with alert, and found nothing amongst the sea of lively green. Then, one pair caught them. "There," Madasora gulped. He did not point; he did not lift a finger. He just swallowed – swallowed hard so that the panic, the anxiety wouldn't return, wouldn't make a comeback. As if going against his wishes, his stomach pushed back up the knot of nervousness into his throat._

_Among the shade of the trees was a figure, a figure whose face was covered in complete shadow, body revealed in the pale, bare sunlight. Features of the face showed, yet still, blanked by darkness. Dark, purplish robe was strewn over this person like a magician; a dark ebony emblem glowing with deep sin embedded onto the robe. The place over this person's heart on his robe twitched, as if something rumbled inside it. A rather suspicious crease was over it, a closed, thin line that shuddered, almost cold, lonely. The being sneered, a manly, careless yet silent scoff of murmured voice. "What?" he provoked in a calm, normal voice. The councils stayed alert, afraid that this person's voice would aware others in the swamp of their presence. Tense eyes beamed left to right, left to right, back and forth, over and over again until it had rotated five-forty degrees. "You took longer than I expected."_

_"Enough of that," Hanabikai whispered, rather loud. He gained his confidence. Eyes narrowed, hiding a shuddering, scared pupil. He swallowed hard, trying with his best efforts to allow his voice. "Where are you going?"_

_"That depends," the voice in shadow asked, masculine voice from darkness. "I'm going home; where are you going?" it snickered._

_"I can't deal with this," Madasora shifted his feet quickly and narrowed his eyes. Arms spread out to a tiny scale; uprooted grass blades cradled the soft breeze into the air. In a flash, the council's appearance faded into speed. Agility rushed through the patches of grass, kicking away weak, crescent blades of innocence. With a slow dodge to the left, the silhouette missed the gust of wind. A strong breeze trickled on his cheeks, comforting. Brown hair wavered past behind him._

_"Now, now," the voice asked as Madasora reappeared before the councils, eyes narrowed, confident. Hibiyomi prepared himself. "Let's not rush this," he insisted, smiling beneath that mask of shade. Taking out two thick, paper scrolls from velvet pockets, the figure held out both, one in each hand. They opened up by just a crack, long enough to see the two huge, kanji symbols scribbled on each of them. One bejeweled "Father Tiger," while the other, lighter colored one spoke, "Mother Hare." Displaying these two letters, Hibiyomi suddenly had a shock of surprise, excitement, an eerie amusement. What…? He asked himself. The two scrolls lingered their tails outward and poured themselves onto the ground with a certain automaticity, swerving into layered circle upon circle until they represented figures, whispering, wavering, sewing into dark, paper silhouettes. Both four-legged, one was smaller, tinier than the other._

_Smile spread on the opponent shrouded in enigma, as well as other places on him, too. The papers folded themselves with a light, wind rustling them until they tightened – tightened into their own living organisms with their own functions. "No…" Hibiyomi muttered. "No way…it can't be." Confused faces flashed jumbled looks to Hibiyomi._

_The folding stopped. The "Father Tiger" represented a tiger, obviously, with a human, flesh mask on it. It was ghostly with a type of astral wisp wrapped around it, a sickly grey-blue. It was cloaked in a dark coat, two bloodstained blades carried on its back; put crossing each other like two destinies clattered. The "Mother Hare," was a hare of course, and bound nothing but a tiny, black coat with dangling, tiny little spheres that were like earrings on the side of its body, ornaments on the white fur Christmas tree. No presents hid under it, though, a lonely tree this was with no children to covet it. Sparse covenant seemed to linger between the two, binding their souls together in a unison battle. The hare, too, held a human flesh mask. Both were covered with their respective gray auras, their distorted, wrinkly faces with fake, forgotten hair. One mask represented a male mask, the other a female. They grinned distortedly, frowning in their own longing despair. "No…!" Hibiyomi cried out, louder this time, yet not as loud._

_"What's the matter, Hibiyomi?" the enigmatic voice rang, seeming to come from all directions possible. Hibiyomi took great glances at the two used to be scrolls, and not the opponent. He looked at them, watched them, sleuthed them of their presence, their faces, their horrid, distorted, recollecting faces! How much they resembled… something, something that he did not want to think about! The enemy really wasn't going to use them against him…was he? "Don't you recognize them?" Two confused faces chimed. "Your own parents?"_

_The words kept repeating in Hibiyomi's mind in a great, impulse pattern, a never-ending loop of words, letters, sentences that soon all became meaningless, meaningless without definition, without variation. They didn't seem real. They didn't sound real. To Hibiyomi, they weren't real. One more glance at the horrid flesh masks, the covers locked in dread, eyes crinkled horridly, frozen, a frozen accusing eyeing of eternity, locked, latched onto greater souls for power – power! The only purpose, power! They kept going on in a loop, a broken machine of music: Your own parents? Your own parents? Your own parents? Your own parents? Your own… Hibiyomi's eyes froze, shocked, no time for awe, no time for amazement, no time for bewilderment. He was lost in the trance of the past, and his teammates – they were filled with awe for him, for he could not fit all the emotions he carried in such a small little package known as his own body._

_"That's right, It's the perfect weapon for you, isn't it, Hibiyomi-san?" the voice rang. More smiles. "Well, then… Go!" The two animals rattled, like rusted, metal puppets. Flesh masks moved, an eternal frown on their once innocent faces that had been lost along the way. The tiger jumped. The rabbit disappeared, faded. Hibiyomi remained, stuck._

_"Hibiyomi!" Hanabikai and Madasora shouted in unison. They tried to get him awake, but he wouldn't answer. His body was released from all kinds of energy, all signs of life. He gave off nothing, no signs of being alive, of being human, or at least a council. "Hibiyomi!" they shouted once more from desperation. The two masked opponents neared. "Damn it!" Hanabikai turned his head to face the incoming tiger. Its shadow blocked the bare sunlight, and with that, a constantly darkening shadow fell onto his face – as he stood there, and watched._

_A scream. A scream of awakening from Hibiyomi. Then, minutes later – blood._

Madasora looked solemn. He no longer wanted to talk about the incident; he stopped right before the great ending. Eyes surrounded him and pleaded his continuation, pleaded the permanence of this story. Madasora eyed his surroundings, one by one picking the begged messages of the Minors around him. He sighed, considering that all beings surrounding him were now commanding him to do so. "In the end, Hibiyomi had to kill his own parents after all." Begging, peasant faces and stares changed into shocked, disbelief faces. "That's why he cares about the new people he cares about. He doesn't want to lose them again; especially the way he lost his parents, so when someone gets hurt that he cares about, he gets all loose – crazy like a monkey on a banana slice that hasn't eaten in months."

"That's why…" Derek said, peering back into the field of battle. Everyone turned to him. He did not meet anyone's eyes. "He's going to win. As a child, my parents were the best fighters, and they showed no emotion; I could only follow their example and become strong. However, I always used to worry day and night. Eric is completely different from this. He hasn't been through enough. That's why he's going to lose this battle."

Solemn looks washed over people's faces. Walter stood, head bowed, eyes cross under their shady lids, arms folded in each other's warmth. "No," Walter suddenly protested, disagreed. Derek raised his head in surprise, and turned it, watching Walter's nothing but serious look pour on his face, his features, his everything. He had not spoken to any Minors for so long, so long avoiding contact, avoiding communication. What was his purpose for speaking now? "You're wrong. Eric has been through a lot," he began to explain. Derek listened very closely. "A lot more than you would think. I don't know all the details, but…" Walter stared out into the battle field to look at the teenage boy, fighting so hard. He kept blowing punch after punch, dodge after dodge. "He's been through something just as worse as I. Just having been through this makes him a purpose – makes him strong." Derek thought, putting it into consideration. Walter continued to watch the fight, then bowed his head down again, sighing, breathing fresh air.

"Kahibi Eric, huh?" Madasora repeated the boy's name, watching him confidently give determined blow after blow, hit after hit, block after block and dodge after dodge. Sweat of hard work covered him, blanketed him with proof, proof of his purpose – but Hibiyomi couldn't see that – and that's what he was working for now. "What an interesting character," Madasora went on. "He's the one all the councils have been talking about. Apparently, he's been the one hated by his childhood society for years. As a result, he trained himself to become physically and emotionally stronger. However, after his mother was killed…" Madasora's voice trailed off. Walter opened his eyes suddenly, as if receiving an electric shock. "Well, who knows what after that," Madasora didn't know what else. The Water Minor's eyes calmed.

So that's it… Walter thought in his mind, confined thoughts flowing everywhere in a sea of philosophy. He stared back into the battle, and everyone, having enough to listen to for the day, watched Eric, too, a whole new level of confidence and respect, and worship for this one teenager. He worked hard, not noticing them watching him, not even knowing, or caring if they realized his existence. Because he knew he'd prove it. He'd prove it himself, if he had to.

His feet and fists were set ablaze, constantly attacking, punching, thrusting, spinning at Hibiyomi. They all missed with expert dodges. Hibiyomi, deciding to put an end to the constant close-fighting, shouted: "Enough!" He took a deep breath and shot out a misty beam of pressurized shadows. It was like a dragon's heated breath and burst at Eric's feet. Eric jumped away just in time, cooling his hands and legs from the flames as white smoke hissed dangerously into the air. "I'm done playing around with you, Eric," Hibiyomi began. "From now on, it's no holding back."

"It should've been like that from the very start," Eric insisted with a confident smile, a narrow set of eyes. He fixed his fingerless gloves. "Even so, now I know all about your past." Eric jeered his eyes to the left corner, as if to peer towards the Minors section of the "audience."

Hibiyomi seemed surprised, then, his eyes calmed, normalizing themselves right after. Then, he eyed the Minors section, and found Madasora. The Wind Council laughed nervously, an animated sweat drop lingering at his temples, a broad, anxious smile of nervous habit spreading wide across half his face. Crinkled eyes gave way to lowered shoulders. Nervous chuckles spat from slits of teeth. Then, returning his stare, Hibiyomi muttered, "I see." "Well, then. Shall we begin?"

"Yeah," Eric said almost immediately. Tension washed away with a friendly and-or unfriendly competition. "Let's not waste anymore time," he suggested. "We both have a purpose to prove." Hibiyomi suddenly brought about a whole ground of shadows spread from his feet, layering the floor in a thin, blackish shade. They cried out, devilish, devious murmurs of hellish attempt. Eyes narrowed; energy focused.

Eric brought up his fists, smiling in readiness. Dirt marks and tired marks consumed his body, but he wouldn't let a simple worn out feeling wear him down. He never did. His fists began to hiss with white smoke, and then, soon, they were set on fire, blistering with orange, red, and yellow flames, cackling with an evil cry that was ready to work, ready to fight. "Kamisori no Akuma!" The same razors of shadows emerged from the ground again, slicing through the air like missiles, torpedoing horizontally towards the vertical sky that remained in secrecy and nonexistence.

Eric dodged them quickly, punching and burning a few into a diminished, weak state. Flips and turns and churns made his escape from many of them, and then, as the pattern continued, he slowly became worn out. The swift darting shadows caused a tedious obstacle in his path. Then, suddenly, Eric felt his leg resist moving. Stammering on his other foot, he looked to the one that refused mobility, and found that the shadow floor Hibiyomi had created before had grown, stretched to the teenager's feet and locked around his ankle. He couldn't move now. Eric waved his ablaze fists crazily through the air; they were not much of use now.

Then, realizing his position, he looked up frantically, eyes scrambling used-to-be organized thoughts like a morning egg breakfast. He took a sharp breath as he had no choice but to take the tens of hits that pummeled against his chest in a matter of few seconds. He was thrown off course, slammed against the next wall. Eric shouted, crying out from pain as one of the razors made a cut on his arm. It stunned him with crazy pain and anguish. The wound stung, and leaked out numbed blood. Many other cuts were made on him, that also stung like a million bee stings. This attack was from hell, it was! Blood dripped to the floor like tiny, first drops of rain as the boy fell to his knees and began coughing, breathing heavily. "I'll ask you once more," Hibiyomi gave a second chance, which he usually didn't. Eric was lucky, was he? "Have you come to yet? If not and you fail to forfeit, I really will kill you, Eric."

Eric didn't answer. He continued to breathe heavily, ignoring Hibiyomi. "Eric!" he cried out once more, demanding an answer. His voice was rigid, rigorous, merciless. Eric showed nothing; no signs of answer.

On all fours, Eric brought his hands back to the side of his bent legs as kneeled weakly in front of Hibiyomi. His head was bowed, his shoulders shrugging constantly from heavy breaths. "Go ahead…!" Eric demanded. Hibiyomi gave a shocked expression, a low mutter. The other councils and Minors did the same, all expression varying with their disbelief faces. "Kill me! Go ahead!!" he called out once more, begged. His heavy breathing rasped and continued, unable to pause, unable to stop, unable to take even a tiny, second's worth break. "If I can't prove that protecting the ones you care about is right, then go ahead! What's my worth?" he shouted angrily. "Go ahead! Do it! Kill me!!"


	100. Chapter 100

"Go ahead!" Eric continued to shout, a piercing anger of voice spewing against reflective walls. Many surrounding pairs of eyes widened, shocked, filled to their pupil's deep brim with disbelief. "Kill me! But, even so, I won't give up that easily!" Now it made sense; now the cloud of confusion and uncertainty cleared into bright, lit up puffs set ablaze by a bronze harness of sky and sun. "I'm not the one that was to come to!" With that word, the confident boy began to stand; however, not only did he have confidence, he had a crazy, ablaze passion of determination, one that couldn't be put out, not by wind, not by water, not by cold air or anything. It was a fire that burned forever – the flame of eternity that proved that it would never die, and proved that it could overcome anything. Slowly his legs straightened, tall like trees, slowly his feet fixed their stance regularly, and slowly, the downed chest of this red-clothed boy began to rise, straighten, fill and burst with one thought in mind: victory.

No way… Hibiyomi thought as he watched with solemn eyes, his emotion not emitted by the stands of his facial features. Shock hid behind that emotionless mask, the face that was numb, frostbitten in years of hate, broken memories, a broken piece of mirror, a mask that never- ever came off. "All right!" Zack shouted from his distant place, jumping high towards the ceiling. He held a fist out, bursting with enthusiasm from watching the fight. Everyone cheered, even some councils.

Daniel smiled, nodded. "Go, Eric!!" Marissa shouted in a humorous frenzy, eyes burning with passionate cheering, shaking a fist of detestation for the "enemy." Her face grew ten times her size. Derek stood stiff, tense with tight locks for muscles. Walter remained, lingering in indifference as Madasora became piqued, a curious smile spreading on his face. Cheers were silenced by the long, eternity walls; darkness told the coming of the ending of tension; soon the battle would end. Soon enough, someone would get hurt. Really hurt. Muffles cheers continued, wordless shouts of jubilation, a rejoiced chorus never-ending, mixed tones rapped from a broken disc. Eric stood, and lifted his eyes, his confident, never worn out eyes. His fists clenched; his fingers burned, hissed with a striking threat, and then, set itself ablaze with a burning passion of determination, wildfire bluster of purpose. Amazing… Madasora thought as he watched not too casually. Could this actually be the first time Hibiyomi…he paused, gulped. Loses?

Eric let out a cry, a cry that would forever remain in troubled ears, a cry of solution, a cry of that had fingers – fingers that wouldn't let go, fingers that would grasp, reach, and hold to their dreams, hold to the mountain's tip for this is what people lack, and this is what they would give. The peak of the mountain was hard to get to, though – and where would everyone be without someone to teach us how to climb it, hike it for ourselves to see what wondrous things it can do for us, someone like Kahibi Eric? Eric thrust out his fist in the air, shot out the set aflame head of orange and yellow, crackling like a hot, intense missile blistering the air with heat. "Eric…" Hibiyomi silently muttered to himself. He watched the boy, the fireball as it neared, torpedoed. "Enough!"

Sending out a wave of energy, deep, thorough claws of shadow, of darkness erupted from the plaster ground in a wave, sharp, curvy pillars of hate, of grudge rising, cracking the floor, coming as quickly as agile could define. The pillars made dents, slits on the ground, made it uneven to some degree, and with that, collided with the hot blaze. Sparks of light scattered; the shadows and flame died together. Eric was left, disappointed yet still not ready to give up, lungs heavily breathing in a breath worth a million inhales second after second. Mouth was left open, too tired to close. Shoulders shrugged with the intake of air, as if he did not know what to do next, as if he didn't know the answer to his question. "I'll put and end to this now!" Hibiyomi declared, eyes pulsing with anger, cracks of anguish red reaching like branched fingers of trees to the pupil, an angry obsession, possession of his body starting from the eyes. With that word, he clapped his hands together, strongly, piercing the weakened walls of orange that were moldy with dark.

As if on cue, Eric fell to his knees. He let out a despaired cry, a distinguished anguish. He managed to keep it at one knee; his body weak as he felt the blood continue to overflow from his slit injuries. Damn it! he thought. His eyes shuddered, teeth ground; he couldn't move. Millions of shocked, soft voices cried the teenager's name, the name they had failed to recognize for so long, bouncing, shivering off the walls that were empty with no purpose, but with no purpose came with no mistakes, no let-downs, no guilt, or disappointment. "Can't move?" Hibiyomi asked, hints of victory in his soft murmur of voice. Why was he so confident that he was to win? "It's no wonder; when you got sliced by my needles just before, I sent my own free spirit energy into your body from the wounds to seal your links. It took them a while, but it seems they finally worked; you can no longer use your powers."

Eric said nothing, unable to speak through gritted teeth, one eye winced, handling the pain that shot through his stomach, throat, chest and hands. I can feel it… he thought. I can feel the crazy pain shooting through where my gates are, I can't even feel my own Half Spirit anymore…! But… I can't lose! I can't! He told himself the same thing over and over and over again. "Eric," Hibiyomi called out to the eighteen year old boy full of purpose. Eric pulled up his head, his eyes with difficulty. He scowled as he strained to think, strained to look. His senses were swaying; he was losing a right mind. Half his body was now corrupted; what else could happen to him? What else?! He thought, but he couldn't hear them. He thought something; he didn't know what, but he thought something. "When I told you I wasn't going to hold back any longer, I meant it, Eric!" Hibiyomi shouted loudly, making sure the boy heard him. Eric strained to decipher the message. His eyesight blurred, turned left and right, left and right, even though his head was not moving. Movement was unthinkable, mobility was no longer a word available to him. "I'll kill you now… with a move that'll finally put fear into your eyes instead of confidence!" Hibiyomi fixed his stance, leaned forward. Dark, shadow energy began to form at his feet, spiraling around him, flowing upward in a growing tornado that didn't seem to widen.

No way! Hanabikai thought, grinding his teeth. "He's not really thinking of -"

"He could be," Tsukansu cut him off. "He's Hibiyomi, after all. You know him." Hanabikai stared at his closest friend, and then, processing the words, scowled, scowled hard. He turned back, and tightened his scolding look. His fists clenched, rattled and shook at his side. Damn it, damn it, damn it! He thought. It was helpless. Could he do anything at this point? No.

"Eric can't survive that!" he said through grit teeth. He growled under his breath. His eyes shuddered in anxiety, in hesitation. What should I do? He thought. What should I do?! 

Fear… Daniel thought all the way on the other side. He remembered what Hibiyomi had just said to Eric about fear. It's something I promised Shintenmaru I wouldn't have anymore, he thought in disappointment for himself. Just the mention of that word sent him in a downward spiral of depression, of a feeling of failure.

The black ebony spirals continued to stream upward like a parade of thick nets, crawling, greedy fingers ready to take in Hibiyomi, take him in a shadowy hold of hell. For so long he controlled this move, for so long he had not used it. He was not sure if he could do it as good as he did before; but even so, the weakest type would kill even a Minor – and give fatal wounds to a council. Then, suddenly, above the dark, blackened spirals, the darkness began to form, began to churn into something else – another form, another figure. It gave away the dark silhouette of eight, creepy legs, of sharp, tarantula fangs. Fur of black blankness formed, spikes of hairy darkness. It became as wide as the room, and hissed, scowled. Hibiyomi leaned, feeling his shoulders fall downward, slump in their sockets as his face became overtaken with black, his eyes thickening with darkness from the pupil expansion, until his eyes became nothing but a blank sorrow, a dull possession of hell; the devil.

Eric continued to breathe heavily. He strained to watch the black hissing monster, panting breaths rising and flattening his chest. "I…I'm not… giving up!" he strained his teeth as he got a hard time getting up, legs trembling, spin shivering with immobility. Then, he collapsed back to the floor, unable to rise. He gave a low cry as he fell back to the beginning. His eyes winced horridly, determinatively, but would determination alone help him keep his life? Only time would tell, only the hands of the clock held the answer in their forecast fingers, blatant grasps unnoticed as people watched them tick away at a three-sixty degree collection of numbers.

Should I interrupt? Hanabikai thought, confused thoughts blurring even more into delta smears, becoming a colored, blatant code of words – a black and white rainbow printed, lost, broken, shattered in his mind, falling like rain, rain that he was supposed to caught and fixed, but fell to the ground anyway, shattering into a million, billion tiny pieces, unable to be repaired. And he- he just stood there, watching them like glowering hail, watching them shine in light before the shards of glass pieced together scrambled thoughts in his mind, and doing a poor job at that. Should I interrupt? He raised a thought for once. No! he denied quickly as he watched the spiraling, intensifying darkness. Even I can't survive that move! Even so, that attack will track Eric down! I can't do anything even if I tried! Damn it!

"It's too bad," Kakori's hidden voice said from the shadows, sympathetically. Voices gave their senses of conclusion of battle, sad, misfortune. Misfortune that they didn't care to help and pretended that they wanted to.

"Yeah," Dirondo answered him, her voice weak and delicate, soft and strong.

I…I'm not…! Eric continued to think, his whole body trembling, shaking, shuddering in weakness and disability as he tried to get back up. Suddenly, he had an image of his mother, his mother's sad, cold, wrinkled face – closed eyes that would never become live and flash a happy, brightened look ever again. "Ah!" Eric shouted from despair and memory followed by a long, painful scream of emotion and physic. He fell to the floor once again. His knees collapsed onto the plaster and shot pain through his legs. He began to heavily breathe again, the screams ending, a forced demise to resume the breathing, the heavy, two ton breathing. Tension shot through the air, and everyone, everyone waited. Everyone thought – knew that this was the end. The end of the one they so believed in. Few even began to cry. The Minors tried to near Eric, but even a little more past the threshold of the door, they would get caught up in the charging attack. Shadows piled against the ceiling and began to dominate the whole room, Hibiyomi's body the center of the spiraling darkness, unmoving as if he had been possessed by a ghost.

Then, suddenly, at the Minors side of the hall, they heard running, clicking of shoes. Their damp faces turned, jeered, jerked to find who it could be. Two figures approached, revealing their frantic silhouettes in the darkness. They ran, side by side, tension running through their blood like intersecting veins of sickly green. They wondered who it was, until finally, the figures began to show their full presences. One had a long river of hair that swung like a park swing from side to side, ricocheting off each other in strands. Frantic, feminine feet ran towards them. The other figure had long hair as well, yet not even competition for the first's. It was a masculine type of long hair, barely to the shoulders with wider shoulders than the first. Then, they came to view. The color poured into them like fire did to your shocked faces. It was none other than the two missing Minors, Teresa and Lance. Their frantic, worrisome faces told the Minors of their hard time getting here; the whole dimension was like a maze, after all.

"We finally found you guys!" the shouted in relief, laughing at themselves. "This place is like a maze!" They approached. Then, Teresa and Lance found their troubled faces, their own worrisome looks. "What's wrong?" she asked. Lance was thinking the same. She tilted her head in curiosity, and peered past their shoulders. Then, something caught her eye. Swirls of black. Her eyes widened. Her expression froze. Her legs began to act by herself, her own breathing even stalled. She quickly ran past them without realizing, a subconscious act of an emotion, an emotion she couldn't think to describe. Her sweat trailed behind her swinging, rush of purple hair blur as she knocked people over by their shoulders. She ran over Walter's asleep appearance without noticing it, and ran to the bare threshold of the hallway. Her eyes – they froze even more, unable to comprehend just what was happening; or, rather, she did not want to accept what she had thought she comprehended. But it was no use. It was the truth, and her eyes – the moistened. "N…no way…" her voice trailed, as if there was more for her to say, but she had forgotten all complicated words above "hello." "What…What is…?" she couldn't finish the sentence.

A hand softly, delicately landed on her shoulder, support. It was the tiny, innocent touch of the miniscule sensation Daniel. His sympathetic look trailed behind hers that was filled with disbelief. "It's over," he muttered, hating to be the bearer of bad news, his voice cracking, his lips moving in a slim, bare movement that drained with reluctance.

"N-no… no!" Teresa said, knowing nothing else to say. Her eyes, they were confused; her thoughts – they were scrambled like her favorite morning yellow breakfast. But she couldn't think of things like food – things that are enjoyable now. No, the thought of good sickened her. Gave her pangs of pain, pangs of nausea. She felt no need for those things now – no need for food, for fun, for _happiness_, for hope. Her eyes were frozen, blistering with muzzled thoughts, bound in a tight, loose feeling – an indecisive emotion. Her mind was left blank, because her thoughts could get nowhere through. She watched through her eyes, her pure, violet eyes that Eric – lying on the floor, was breathing, heavily, strongly, begging, pleading for another chance as if. And she – she wanted to help him, she wanted to pick him up and wake him up, just like he had done to her. But it was too late now – much too late for that. And she told herself that – and felt pain all over. Behind her, Lance bowed his head, lost in solemnity.

Eric lifted his stare, and caught Teresa in his eye for just a second, a split, blurry a second. He caught her emotional stare, her worrisome eyes crumbling down, ready to cry. Her purple hair seemed so innocent, yet so stained and tainted with horrible memories, but finally they were erased – and he didn't want them to come back. He wanted to smile at her, act cool, but he couldn't – it was too hard to even do that. He continued to breathe hard, one eye remained closed as if wanting to go to sleep and leave this world. Then, a large spider's growl brought his eyes away from her. It was at the ceiling and as wide as the room itself. Its mouth opened in a wounded hunger that was never satisfied, a bloodthirsty set of fangs unquenched. It growled once more with its pure black lips, its dark, ebony body of surreal energy. It shouldn't even be alive – yet it was. It so was, with those low groans, that scent of devious shadow, its body odor, its crawling, creepy legs.

"Die!" Hibiyomi cried out with a blank face. The spirals stopped. They burst. He fell back to his feet, back still slouched and head still bowed to the ground. The spider hissed once more before attacking, and then, and then – blasted a huge pillar, a strength beam of shadow, a wave of darkness. Eric had no choice but to stay still. Then, he turned to Teresa. He tried to smile, so desperately tried to smile, watching the beam of black near him, closer and closer as he heard nothing but his heartbeat. Then, finally managing to do it, gave a tiny, miniscule, effortful smirk; a smirk hidden in the face of society. And then – just as that smile blossomed and came to birth, he was overtaken. His body – it was sent flying, it was gone as the wave of dark blasted him, away and away and away into nothingness… into nonexistence.

The beam kept at him, hitting him continuously as his body remained at its head, continued its inescapable rounds of attacks. The shadows hit at his stomach, causing his limbs to flail wildly at his side, limply, weakly. The continuous beating was full of pain – full of blood, and he could not use his powers. He could not move. He could not do anything… but smile. Teresa looked up as he was sent flying through the air, like a shooting star, a shooting star that left with her wish, left back for the sky and not for the earth, the ground, to put that wish into effect.

Her eyes were widened, her worrisome flipped to tense fear, fear for his loss of life. Her delicate fingers brought themselves to her chest, and through widened, beautiful eyes, if you looked in closer and closer, zoomed in more and more into the violet innocence of new insight, you could see Eric, arms and legs flailing, weakly, unable to do anything; not even screaming. He was like a doll now, an empty doll with no emotions, no facial features – and this is what Hibiyomi wanted. This is what Hibiyomi wished for. Then, Eric crashed into the wall. He crashed into the wall and sent dust and chunks of plaster flying, spewed out through the enormous, sudden eruption of smoke. A huge, seventh dent of the battle was made, and the attack – it ended. And what was left? What was left to control Teresa's emotions, to manipulate her into crying, or cheering? It was a gamble. A gamble that she never, ever wanted to take again. The impact of the crash broke a whole thick layer of that wall, the right part of the wall on the councils' side. Smoke continued to drag out, a suspenseful, dreadful mist of cloud cover. Rocks were outside of the cloud of smoke, staying still in solemnity, as if crying, crying for the Minor, crying for his pain and this kindhearted purpose that never, ever had a chance. Imagine what the world would've been… if he hadn't been….

Hibiyomi fell to his knees, his eyes returning to his face, as if they themselves were the attack. He began his own heavy breathing. I've used up too much energy for that one move, he thought, his panting wearing him out, his organs, his legs, his arms – everything. His forehead pulsed with a major headache, as if a hangover from the immense release of energy.

Teresa fell to her own knees a soft, delicate, clear bead that lost its necklace trailed down her face. Her cheeks puffed, moistened, became hot. Her lips silently sealed themselves, and her legs, sprawled weakly to the floor, crumbled in energy. Her head bowed, as if in shame, losing all will to move, all will to think, all will to live. "Eric…lost?" she muttered to herself silently, barely, as if her last words. Her lips – they failed to move any longer, actually resistant to it, deciding that there was no purpose to it, no helping or support to it. The smoke continued to hiss from the demised scene.

"It's a wonder why he had to die," Dylan muttered sadly, sympathetic face distorted into a deep sorrow. He had lost all energy, too, but not all will; at least he still had his will. Everyone agreed without words. Their solemn faces looked down in respect to the Minor they failed to acknowledge, failed to get to know. The eternal hissing of the slowly clearing smoke would stay in their minds, a memoir of this confident, most purposeful Minor ever. It was a monumental hiss, a hiss of memories; memories that had failed to be made. People sighed. Walter – he remained inside his shell of indifference.

"No," Madasora interrupted. People picked their heads up, confused. They looked at him, looked at his face filled with normality, filled up as if nothing were wrong. They asked questions, questions with their eyes because their lips failed to function any longer – their mouths finding their own acts selfish, and deciding to shut themselves in shame, in guilt – because they couldn't help. They never could. What was the point of them? They were something one could call extra weight, at least now they were. "Look." He nodded his head towards the clearing cloud of dust.

Frantically, they all looked to it. Rocks crumbled inside; the Minors heard it. Scraping of feet – sad, lifting of limp arms. Blood dripped horridly to the floor like a flood. "W-What!?" shouts from the Minors came as the smoke cleared, hints of nausea growing into the pits of their stomach, washing over them with a phlegm-like sickness that begged, pleaded for their retching, their throttling of tongue.

"Teresa," Daniel called sympathetically, sadly to the girl who crumbled to half her size, shoulders sadly, depressively slouched. He brought back a comforting hand to her shoulder. He gripped it, lightly. She failed to pick her head up. "Look." Teresa, reluctantly, followed. Her slow picking up of stare slowly arose like a tiny blossoming flower of spring. And then… with slight nausea – she gasped.


	101. Chapter 101

The dent in the wall from Eric's crash was a demented tobacco pipe, spewing out constant huffs and puffs of gray and brown smoke, hissing with their intoxicating fog, jeering outward like millions of hunter spears, spreading outward, and dominating. The larger rocks had fallen; it was now time for the smaller, more miniscule ones to crumble to the floor with a tiny, slight click to the ground. Darkness wavered and shivered, as if cold in the growing night outside, a slow numbing that these scared blades of darkness resisted, tried to shake away and falter gone, refusing the status of immobility. Silence came; people waited, and some, all ready sad, chose to give up early, so the pain, the sorrow they never had time to build up inside would relieve faster, quicker, swifter. Brave they were as they held their moist eyes, tightened in their sockets and cheeks puffed for support.

"W-What…?" a girl, a purple-haired girl said to herself in a tiny, breathless whisper, her eyes, her beautiful, meaningful violet eyes, open, wide open with the refusal of closure. Her brows twitched unevenly, her crumbled legs lay on the ground, cold. The numbness had gotten to her, and her flame of passion had died; yet somehow, what she saw – it brought it all back. The candle that began to surround with darkness and wisp at white, ashy smoke began to light up again, a tiny, distant speck of dark, starry red into the crooked charred to a coal finger of the waxy, godly candle. Slowly, the aura of light came back, slowly the celestial beliefs returned, and sunk back in, as if they were never lost.

The dust, mislead, began to clear and dwindle away at the walls, the millions of cheeks upon cheeks upon cheery, jubilant cheeks spreading outward, and fading. Fading into nothingness, a miserable refusal by society, and now, realizing its own horridness, its own failure, its own demented, crooked, weirdness, it fled, hoping to find a better place, hoping to be never awaken again. But from the flee of this future malevolence of apparition came a great sight for many others – it had left one thing for people to remember it by, one thing to be grateful for its now lost presence, one thing to regret shunning it by. Teresa spoke, a light, delicate whisper of graceful, pure lips, an angel's kiss to the air as they formed words, slow, beautiful, whispered words. "E-Eric…!"

And suddenly, unexpectedly for the greater good, the mood changed. The shadows stopped quivering in their desperate demise of cold numbing, and warmed, wrapped with warmth that stopped their eternal crying, their eternal shaking and shivering. A blissful joy spread to the walls, to the smoke that smiled as it dwindled into transparency, fell to a happy plunge. The world flipped over, crazily, the moon became sun, lit up the stars into luminary blanks, set the sky ablaze with the return of clouds, puffed with a nonexistent white, a fantasy come true for people's emotions. The plaster orange became an orange joyous to see, joyous to feel, touch, smell, even taste. Everyone's expressions changed, especially Teresa. Her legs – they defrosted themselves into bright, hot warmth that was set afire with energy, with cheer.

In everyone's eyes, they found Eric, the Fire Minor that never, never gave up rising from his should-be-death, rising from an attack that even a council couldn't stand through – rising, on his weak as hell feet and a slouched back, a back that was too tired to get up, but with a smile, a smile that Teresa would remember. His eyes – they failed to dwindle in confidence, they failed to plummet into fear as Hibiyomi had said, and now, even more covered with tired, dirt marks, he stood, he _breathed, _and picked himself up. With the return of his presence, his alive, impossible presence, people's eyes began to shine with their own confidence. People that had cheered for him, Marissa, Daniel, Zack, they wiped their eyes to forget about their moist pupils, and returned the slouching of brows to a happy, rising of rejoice, of jubilation. They cheered, they smiled, their eyes brightened, and they began to root for him again, fists going up in a burst of happiness, enthusiasm. Sadness wiped away, and Daniel, smiling now with still moist eyes, put out his hand. Teresa couldn't seem to take her eyes, her beautiful, open smile away from Eric, but she managed to give one, second's glance to Daniel, and accepting, brought her hand into his, so he could slowly, surely lift her up into the rejoice everyone shared.

"Put fear… into… my eyes?" Eric asked, voice retching at first, raspy from weakness. Pain seared at him everywhere, at every single place, but he ignored it. It was the true meaning of purpose he began to share with everyone, the true meaning of confidence, of determination. Hibiyomi, staring as he brought himself more and more up to his feet but his legs still obviously weak and back blatantly slouched, widened his eyes, surprised, as if he were having a dream, a hallucination, a _nightmare_. "Wash away… my confidence?" he spoke weakly, his arms limp in their sockets, his voice getting stronger as it finished the last few words of every sentence. One more big breath for energy he took in. He strained his eyes, washed away the pain, took it out and denied it, knowing that there was something much more important, something much better to deal with. "Why? For what? To prove your purpose – your purpose that's so overrated?!" he now yelled in a scream, a confident, pure scream of emotion that made people cheer, jump even more. Eyes applauded, unable to remove, pry themselves from the red-clothed boy, the trusted, loyal Fire Minor.

"What do you mean!?" Hibiyomi cried out, angry, unable to control his hold and oppression of emotion any longer. "Look who won!" he shouted in pure surprised anguish.

"That doesn't mean anything!" Eric snapped right back. Hibiyomi, if possible, widened his eyes even more. "Put fear into my eyes..." Eric repeated. "You won't be able to do that! Because even so… confidence… my confidence is not…!" Eric took a hard time to speak, but he dealt with it, acted as if it were nothing, a mere, miniscule nuisance in his way, a minor obstacle from speaking. His voice was rowdy, rough, like sandpaper. Everyone seemed to listen closer, lean in more, ears wide and ready. "My confidence is not the absence of fear! My confidence is when I feel something is more important than fear! And because of that, you cannot take away my confidence! You cannot replace it with fear!"

Now everyone, not only Hibiyomi, widened their eyes, shocked, never knowing that Eric had _this _much insight. "That's why… I can't give up yet! That's why I still have a purpose! I still feel something is more important than fear. And that purpose is… that purpose is to protect…!" He said the last few words with confidence, with searing loudness that he made _sure _entered Hibiyomi's ears: "My…! Friends!" he shouted with sheer emotion, sheer confidence, almost in a growl, roar.

Then, Eric really roared. He gave a loud, anguished scream, washing away the pain, the fear he admitted to have, but had decided that it was not as important as what he wanted to succeed. He screamed, shouted to the faraway skies, ceilings of the wide, broad room, and even then, the dimension cheered for Eric, cheered for this- this boy that seemed to have come out of nowhere and began to change everyone's lives – one by one. Eric tightened his fists and clenched his teeth, and with a burst of red energy shooting out of him and wrapping around him in an aura, his reddened wounds shot out slits of shadow, slits of slight slivers of darkness out from them, from his links. The red energy intensified, blowing at his clothes, shuffling the creases in his pants, his coat. His eyes became hot with passion, anger, readiness, power, and most important of all, determination. The brown eyes glowed with a neon red as he growled underneath his breath, echoed by the confident, shout-back walls, repetition of noise, of sound, of meaningful voice.

Then, that fire morphed into something else – morphed into flames, into red, hot blaze like the sun – he became the sun, and as the sun, he provided the land, the tiny, lonely grass blades below with enough energy, enough potential to grow and become large weeds, and even if they were not wanted by society, they would be themselves, they would be confident, and they would be strong. His whole body surrounded in fire now as he screamed, scowled once more from the intense power streaming around him and inside his blood, his veins, just screeching, pumping through his heart with ten times the heartbeat a second. No way! Hibiyomi thought to himself, eyes frozen and stretched to an empty whiteness. He felt his body pulse and blow backward from the intense bursting and discharge of great Half Spirit energy. His robes fluttered, an arm blocking his eyes, keeping them safe from the blinding red as he watched slightly with one eye. He… he broke the seals I put on his links!? Impossible! Hibiyomi told himself, feeling like he wanted to scowl but couldn't; his features were too busy being petrified in shock, as if he were becoming a statue.

Then, with one last growl, and one last, hell-blistering scream, Eric sent out a titanic, enormous blaze of flame, a huge, thick, bright and scorching wave of heat. Hibiyomi could not move – his feet were frozen despite the great warmth from the heat about to overtake him. The burning flames blasted at him, took over his body, shot him to the wall – and burst. Eight indent of the battle – the largest one, too. Eric continued to scowl and scream, a red energy sort of tail, wire coming from his back, whipping the air with its miniscule shape and size. He scowled from anguish churned with power and confidence once more; heightening his emotions, and this time, this growl was a bit more… beastly, than usual. Everyone watched, and cheered, hoped, shouted for victory. Red energy brightened the room with its intense luminary heat.

Shit! Hibiyomi managed to think, but just seconds too late. The fire plummeted Hibiyomi's shocked body into the wall right next to the Minors, and broke that whole side of the wall as well. A long, large rumbling shook at the Minor's feet, vibrated their stances and seemed to beg for their falling. Many fell to the farthest wall for support, stumbling on their feet. A loud explosion filled the entire room with noise, filled it even more with bright scorch, a blistering light of red and orange and fire. Flames burst out from the huge dent of the wall and cindered in crackling flames, the new dent more intense and more successful as a demented tobacco pipe, spewing out bright, hopeful, awed flames instead of gray, depressing brown ones. These puffs were accepted; these clouds were wanted and put amazement into people's eyes until they were dazzled senseless into their own crazed trance. Chunks of rock shot out and spewed from the flames, tiny little sediments of plaster following. The huge wave of heat emitted from the explosion tickled and licked the Minors' faces. Shouts of awe wowed the crowd.

No…Hanabikai thought, the bright flames of the fire shining on his face, spilt on him with a nonexistent, mobile paint. He swallowed hard, thoughts and eyes watching, focusing carefully on Eric's posture, on Eric's appearance. Eric…! Is he changing into…? Eric began to breathe heavily and stopped his loud uproarious cries. The cackling of flames went on as loud as could be; hissing of enveloped and grasped away smoke along with the clicking and crumbling of sediment providing background noise.

"He survived that attack and broke free of a linked hold?" a shocked voice of Kakori muttered with awe. His mouth hung open, as if breathing eternally, constantly, no time for words. His eyes – they were blank, filled with surprise, with a good kind of surprise. "There's no way!"

"Way," Hanabikai quickly answered. Kakori seemed answered, cried out in a tiny murmur, backed up. Hanabikai turned around to face Kakori, and they eyed into each other's faces, expressions, digging deep into their feelings. Hanabikai smiled, not at what he found, but at what he was thinking. His eyes were cheery, a change of emotion. "Don't you know all ready?" Kakori seemed confused. He tilted his head to one side, as if pouring out water from one ear. His face was still locked in certain puzzlement. "He's Kahibi Eric, damn it!" he said happily, friendlily, enthusiastically.

"Hanabikai!" Kakori muttered loudly, scornfully. His expression went grim, full of scold.

Hanabikai laughed it off. He smiled wider, and Kakori continued to look at him, somewhat, to some, tiny, miniscule scale, disappointed.

The dust cleared, the fires finally diminished and leaving nothing left but the masked gray smoke. However, knowing that they had been scandals, thieves, liars of disloyalty, they left quickly this time, fled as fast as they could, as if they knew the "drill." Amazing, still alive thoughts rang weakly inside the clearing smoke of a limp, immobile body. This guy… he broke through my seals... Kakori quickly zoomed to his side, kneeling over him and watching his laid down body as if he had been put to bed affectionately by his mother, his guardians that cared and loved him so much. "Have you had enough, Hibiyomi?" Kakori asked. Hibiyomi, eyes now full of realization, now full of change and some relief, stared, stared with friendly eyes for once, at Kakori's smiling gesture.

"Enough," Hibiyomi repeated, taking a short breath and sighed. His limbs were useless, unable to move, frozen as if in ice. However, he no longer felt the need to move them – he no longer felt the need to get up, to make Eric realize that emotionless is the way to go. And because of that, Hibiyomi closed his eyes, feeling the liberation of his soul, the soul that he had buried deep for at least four-hundred years of his overused life. He wanted to cry, but he didn't. He cried inside, out of a new look, a new point of view. "Kakori, I've had enough…" Then, unable to hold it back any longer, the tears of his inside filled him to the brim and leaked out as tears of the outside. Dust continued to hiss around them, and Kakori grinned.

He smiled playfully as he watched over Hibiyomi's tired, worn out body. "Heh," he scoffed to himself in amusement. "Looks like that's it."

Eric, now lying on the floor, facedown, coughed, breathed, alive, and happy to be. He was weak, he was all powerless now, unable to move as much, as fast – but he didn't need to anymore. There was no use in it anymore – because it was all over, and everything was in his favor. Hanabikai suddenly zoomed to his side, kneeling over him, watching his weak body. "Eric, are you all right?" he asked, a foolish question.

Eric scoffed, amused. He smiled a miniscule grin, even his lips too weak to move. "Yeah," he said, voice croaky and weak, all boyish, pretending there was nothing wrong, not even admitting that he was in pain and injured badly. "Not too bad," he said, smiling as he let out a small chuckle. Then, he closed his eyes, tired, without even realizing it. Hanabikai smiled back, and somehow, someway, Eric knew. Blood leaked from his wounds that hadn't been healed yet. Hanabikai was sure to tend to those soon enough. Last clouds of dust whisked themselves away, stalling their fleeing as they wanted to see how everything ended, hating the suspense because they were on a tight schedule. A schedule that called for promptness, punctuality. We should get this guy some rest, he suggested himself.

Teresa staggered. "Eric… he won," Daniel said, still unable to believe such a great thing – such a miracle!

"Yeah," Teresa said, fixing her feet with a smile. "Yeah, he did," she repeated. Quickly, as if on cue, Hanabikai came to the Minor's hall in a flash, carrying the exhausted, unconscious winner in his arms. The smile was stuck on his face, that boyish, careful grin. "Hanabikai," Teresa called to his presence, alerting everyone that he was there. Hanabikai nodded a greeting.

"I have to attend to Hibiyomi's wounds," Hanabikai stated. "Will you take care of him for me?" he asked, face filled with an obvious cheer, rejoice inside his mind. He was glad no one ended up dead, like the majority thought it would turn out.

Teresa stared at Eric's innocence. His tanned features all closed and unaware of his surroundings, this big fighter so vulnerable; it was a bit… adorable. She smiled and said, "Yeah, sure." She took him in her arms and with the help of another Minor, she brought him down to the wall, laid down so he could rest.

"He sure is amazing, isn't he?" Daniel asked as Hanabikai's presence left them. Teresa nodded. Daniel smiled. "His purpose…." He remembered what Eric said not too long ago:

_"That's why… I can't give up yet! That's why I still have a purpose! I still feel something is more important than fear. And that purpose is… that purpose is to protect…! My…! Friends!" he shouted with sheer emotion, sheer confidence, almost in a growl, roar._

_"My confidence is not the absence of fear! My confidence is when I feel something is more important than fear! And because of that, you cannot take away my confidence! You cannot replace it with fear!"_

Daniel nodded to himself, closed his eyes. He took in a slight breath and went to Eric's resting body with slow, delicate steps, in no need of a rush. Teresa watched him as he approached the boy, and bent down to place his palms cross over his chest. They began to glow with a silhouette of bright yellow, and began to heal, a holy glow emitted from his arms, without even saying a word. "Eric can't die. He's the only one who helped me during the first training sessions."

"But doesn't healing take away time from your lifespan?" Teresa asked, sympathetic for Daniel yet glad that he was doing such a sacrificial thing for Eric.

"Even so… confidence is the feeling of something is more important than fear, not the absence of it. I might be afraid of dying early, but I feel that keeping this guy alive is much more important than my own good," Daniel explained. He chuckled and grinned with bright, emerald eyes, even in the darkness decay of shadowy, closed in walls. "Isn't that right, Eric-san?" he smiled. The hum and glow of the healing soft a silent tune into people's pleased ears. "He has the potential to go far from here," Daniel began again. "Believe me. He's a glue that'll keep us bound to each other. He's important to us, because we're important to him." Everyone listened, and agreed in the depths of their minds, nodding, some even staying still, and even Walter did, to some degree, who had remained in the same monumental position for the whole duration of the fighting. With that, the glow ended, the hum was silenced. The crossed palms released, yet Eric was still unconscious. I fixed most of his wounds, Daniel thought, feeling proud that he had made the sacrifice. He sighed, tired. He leaned back. "You've fought enough, Eric-san."

Marissa stepped forward, unexpectedly. She bent over and brought her face to Eric's, as if she were about to say something to him, face-to-face. "You really are the glue that binds us together, aren't you?" she smiled. Her cheery face widened, puffed. Walter stared at them, and inside, had an emotion that remained in secrecy. Everyone, and everyone, with not one person left out, felt that Eric – he was the most important Minor; and that Eric, without him, there would be no Minors. There would be no fixing of problems. There would be no world.


	102. Chapter 102

Outside, the moon howled and sighed in its leisurely bed of clouds, jet blue sheets of sky comfortably wrapped around it. A hungry wind was brisk as it softly murmured past the night, tickling and petting trees and grass. Birds, for once, felt like humans, living upon the sideway floors of their wooden building homes. They chirped, twittered in the chilly dark of nature, singing their song of praise for the calmest night. The full moon smiled a thousand smiles built on top of each other like stacks; stacks that were bright with their luminescent glow. Lunar cheers faded in the wind.

Inside, Eric did not stir; he did not move even the tiniest finger, the smallest toe. Darkness surrounded him, and so did an arsenal of machines, their blatant glows and clicks and beeps humming against the solemn walls of the tiny orange room, set up by the hands of a teary eyed person. Wires that brought his body bound to the machines seemed like robots, ropes, almost that tried to hold him up, tried to keep him from falling, as if the careful, infatuated hands of his friends were keeping him alive, and not the monotone characteristic of a machine. His eyes were closed, carefully almost, like angelic, soft fingers delicately brought them down like shutters, for they had given too much sunlight, and now, they needed a rest. His body lay helpless, still like a cold, freezing robot in the soft cushiony clouds of bed. His mouth was silent, vocabulary lost, and all around, it was like he listened, listened to the beat of the machinery, solemnly humming along to its graceful, delicate tone, and remained quiet, remained still. Secretly, he gave the only applause in his mind, and slowly, he began to listen for the new beats, the new rings, the next beep. He was alone; not a soul was with him. Not a presence lingered about, paid company to him – not just yet. But destiny pleaded him to wait seconds, minutes, in fact. He would not be lonely then, it promised.

Away, a boy couldn't sleep. He lay in bed, night now deepening into midnight, into late night. And he, he just waited, waited because his eyes refused to close as delicately as Eric's, because he had no mechanical tone to subconsciously listen to and applaud. He had no comfort; he had nothing. Walter stirred in bed, tossing and turning the sheets, still fully clothed because for some reason, he felt the need to remain in his clothing. He sighed, tired, yet somehow, not tired. Darkness hid in corners around, watching, looking after him like paranoid guardian angels. Orange walls remained dull, monotone with their perfect, flat faces and bodies. His brown eyes shuddered, the air stuffy with one side of his head against the pillow. The pressure put on his hand that hid beneath the pillow by his head seemed enormous, abnormal. Yet he ignored it, all the same. To be able to defeat someone with the same power as you multiplied by so many times over… amazing, he had to admit to himself, somehow not very fond of this fact. Just because he had a purpose. If so… Walter turned to the other side of the bed, searching for comfort. He found the cooler side, a more refreshing side, yet nothing; no comfort came. Can I do the same?

He eventually gave up, and lifted himself from the bed. He pulled the sheets away from him, speedily, tediously. His body fully awake from the sloth-inducing bed, he walked out, and listened, for once, subconsciously, to the soft clicks of his slippers, and stepped out the door.

PoVS

Minutes passed. Teresa sat vigilantly on the chair, sighing nervously every now and then, mind blank of what to do. Should she breathe, she thought, she would wake up Eric. Or, if possible, disturb him? Shall she move her feet forward, delicately place her arms on the bed? Shall she even look at him; did he know she was watching her? She revealed her self-conscious side to this, this _boy_ and this boy only. She ticked at her teeth, violet eyes wandering off as she herself listened to the secondary tones of the heart monitor, zigzag lines going nauseously up and down, up and down like a perfect roller coaster, a slow one at that. They traced at her patience, slowly wearing it out, yet giving her more, in all equilibrium. Derek stood feet away from her; back against the wall, watching him with no guilt, no suppression of emotion. After the battle he had seen, he had been forced to contemplate. Then, Minoa spoke, the eerie silence that filled her with suspense tolerated no more. "He'll be all right, right?" she asked, ticked herself nervously.

"Yeah," came a slow answer. Derek's deep, hidden voice seemed in thought; he crossed his arms nervously, protectively. "It'll take a few hours, though, before he can be fully well again. I never knew how much he believed in," Derek bowed his head towards the floor. His straight black hair seemed unruffled and perfect – just like always. He scoffed at himself, ashamed of himself. "And I said he would be the one to lose."

Teresa picked her head up from her self-consciousness. "Huh?" she forced out without noticing, her lips acting on their own. She seemed shocked, plummeted with surprise.

"I believed the same thing as Hibiyomi. But, now, I believe in Eric," Derek admitted to himself, and Teresa as he watched the silent, stable pose of Kahibi Eric. The sight of his bravery, even in asleep condition, was amazing, and couldn't help but force a tiny grin from Derek's face. His darkened eyes cheered up for once, brightening. Teresa, seemed to be stuck in her miniscule shock. "Strong doesn't mean without emotion," Derek went on to say. "It means having a good reason to be strong."

"He made you realize all that, huh?" Teresa asked, smiling to herself. She watched the dark, perfect features of Eric's face. His eyes seemed confident, as if his job were not done yet, despite their closed condition. She could tell from his eyebrows, the position they were put under.

"Of course," Derek said, almost excitedly. He got up from the wall and clicked his other foot against the ground. He turned to Teresa, and continued to speak, speak with a newfound confidence inside him. "Don't you see all ready?" he asked. Teresa seemed dumbfounded. She wondered if they were still on the same conversation. "It took a long time to realize it, but he's the main character of a story like this." Teresa said nothing, contemplated. Her violet eyes were in a trance of thought, her lips gracefully sealed just as Eric's were. Then, they looked to him in complete soundlessness, watched his resting face that was unstressed, untroubled. They kept their eyes away from each other now, and not from detestation, but from interest – interest in this boy's life. They watched, they listened, unvigilant, to the soft hum of the mechanical wires, halfheartedly listening to their choir of music and beeps. Their ears – they kept a watchful eye over the heart monitor, the zigzag lines that kept their hopes up, carried it away in upright, downright healthy mountains.

PoVS

Walter walked down the hall in search of comfort; or in other words, because of sheer boredom. Walls were eerie with a calmed, cooling grudge. Soon they would heat up again; soon their anger would rise in the depths of the distant morning. The halls were thin, narrow, encasing; their ends seemed without. His footsteps clicked without a doubt, his brown eyes dark, beckoning, icy. He searched for something; he didn't know what. He ventured downward, rather slowly, as he tried to meet the limitless end of the hall to turn the next corner. Little did he know that he would wish just seconds later that he had not even left his room.

When he reached the corner, something, something eerie caught his ear. It twitched, awoken in the growing midnight. A slight humming, neither angelic nor demonic. It was of pure neutrality, and swam through the distant halls of the dimension, filling their orange boredom into a brimmed choir. It sounded so familiar, so – so strange; like he had heard it just few times, not many, but enough to recognize it. However, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, what it meant. He backed up, didn't know why, hid behind the wall before he went into the next hall. He listened to the hum, the graceful tune as it seemed to be so close, so _near_. He kept his head barely outward, just to his eyes so that he could peer into the depths of the dark and watch, watch for anything strange. Then, behind the background of hum, he found footsteps, footsteps different than his own, for he did not move at the time. So distant, so familiar. Just what was it about it that told him to keep away so much? Walter disregarded. His mistake.

Is it a council? He thought, narrowing his eyes as if giving a cold glance into the dark. No reaction. He expected none, yet he wished for one. No… this eerie feeling… Walter seemed tense. A fearful sweat drop that signified his indecisiveness swam down his temples. It glistened in the nonexistence of light, glistened brightly like a faraway stare. What's going on? He continued to watch forward, unnoticing of his surroundings and obstacles, especially behind him, where his eyes could not reach.

Just a bare foot away from his leaned back, something twisted, cracked, remained unnoticed to his ears that only focused forward. A clean, white bone glimmered softly, like a shrill whisper of winter, white and clean as snow under light. It protruded like a unicorn's horn from the palm of an open, greedy hand, and pulled back, reeling in the sharp dagger slowly, surely, patiently. Then, the dagger reversed – quickly, came through Walter's back. A sickening cracked stab broke the air, sent squirt of blood into the air. The dark redness was blotched by the dark orange of the walls, somehow blending in to the whole scenery. A weak cry uttered from Walter's lost voice as drops of blood came down to the floor, dripping from the crooked blade. Its tip was bloodstained now, tainted with murder. The drops slowly fell to the ground in a slow, lost bead from the eternal necklace of time. One drop of red. Two drops of red. Then, finally the third one, fell to the ground; but it was different than the first two. This one was not blood. This one was made of one thing, and one thing only: Water. The dagger, still struck through Walter, was moved around, jiggled, toyed with. It shot out another squirt of blood, another tiny, miniscule scream. That squirt of blood, it splotched the air like paint, but its dark red, it's deep devious brick lightened, turned backward as it continued its spit to the air. The deep, hateful scarlet turned into a light, clear blue, became harmless, and fell to the floor, darkening the ground in its own shade, and not replaced by another.

Walter strained, but he knew he was safe, he knew he could be sure of his health right now – for this bone dagger had not struck his heart. It had struck through his hand, which connected to a wrist of clear blue water, and connected in a distorted, inhuman position to his arm socket. The hand, still made of skin and blood, began to widen and twist, and the tanned skin and reddened skin because nothing but water, watery fingers that held the thin, sleek bone dagger in its palm, stuck. A white presence held the bone protruding from its hand, and slowly, sneakily began to raise from the orange wall its waist connected to, slowly coming upward as if from water, the plaster cracking and cackling as it stepped out fully, one shadowy leg at a time. "It's been a long time," a familiar, whimsical, raspy voice said. The second leg crawled out, and took its first step to the cool, asleep ground. The plaster wall took a long while to reform itself to its normality. It seemed to crack, hiss with nausea as it repaired itself.

Walter looked ahead, unalarmed, not the least bit of panic in his depth of brown eyes. His lips were silent – his emotion did not change. He was brave. "White Cloak," Walter said with no enthusiasm, no fear. A darkened, shaded smile grew beneath a clear, impure garment. Walter reacted quickly now, taking his hand painlessly away from the now wet bone as the dagger retreated back into the gloved hand. He twisted his body, turned and distorted his other arm into a wave, a rush of water. It overtook White Cloak, sent him flowing down the other end of the hall with enormous pressure as the water roared into the next hall, and evaporated rather quickly there.

It took a while for the water to wash away, constantly crashing, hissing, roaring at collision, as if making sure that each and every tiny little molecule hit, pummeled against the being, the intruder, the person who most people feared. The crash of water faded as the light, shallow blue died away into air. Nothing was left – but a huge, gigantic vertical shell of white, an enormous shield of cragged, distorted bone, thick with calcium and minerals. It glimmered healthily, sickeningly in the absent light, and cracked, cracked to slowly, reluctantly reveal what it hid in its crooked, undeserving hands. Walter waited, the only thing he could do. "Wh-What?" he whispered to himself, half full of awe, the other half of him shocked, surprised, freaked out.

Tension rose as the actual presence of White Cloak sunk into Walter's mind, revealed itself fully to him, making him completely aware of what could happen – and what he could lose, many of the answers blank, yet many of them full, and unwanted, not yet quite feared, but most definitely disliked. The white shield began to crack open, snapping horribly with a shock in your spine. Walter watched, eyes widened in horror as the bits and pieces of the bone fell apart. It soon began to collapse, the darkened distortions overtaking it and eventually avalanching downward to the ground. White Cloak stood behind the bond shield, unharmed, unscratched, perfect, mint condition. Inside, he had the pleasure of knowing that he had the upper hand so far, even by the tiniest scale. "Is that all?" White Cloak asked, putting vulnerability of shame in Walter. The boy widened his eyes, as if shocked by the question, then narrowing his eyes in hate. "I'm disappointed, Walter. You could've learned so much from me if I hadn't gotten rid of you," he teased in a rasp.

"Damn it; shut up!" Walter screamed, an outburst of hate buried over the time he had been here. "What are you!? What're you doing here!?" he shouted, ungrateful of his presence, awakening the beast within the calmest night. Birds twittered, disappointed. Trees rustled, tickled, tickled by soft, demon fingers from hell. The moon even began to howl, louder and despaired, fearful.

"What?" White Cloak said, rather comfortably, normally. "I can't visit my old subordinate? I have a purpose; just like you do," he said, turning cold. Walter scoffed, meanly, meaner than he had meant it, which was just perfect.

"I don't buy it," Walter growled, eyes shuddering, hiding their old fear that had been brought back by White Cloak's impure words, sinful thoughts. The world seemed to tilt; nothing made sense anymore – or, at least, began to. Things toppled over and the balance of the dimension shifted.

"Is that so?" White Cloak piqued with a chuckle, a soft, devious chuckle. "Well then, allow me to…evaluate how much you've grown, Walter-chan. I'd like to bet that it's not much."

"Damn it!" Walter howled, fixing his stance and preparing his body and arms and legs before even realizing it. "Don't patronize me, fuckhead!" he screamed from pure anger, anger from within him, anger that he had ever since that day… in Hanayuki. With that, he sent out a fist of water, rushing through the hall and air like a missile, connected to his arm socket. The clear, roaring water zoomed through the air like a bullet, a bullet that was too fast; much too fast for your own good. White Cloak stepped to the side, and the aquatic fist crashed into the wall behind him, spilling out rocky plaster to the ground in clinks. Walter scowled. The arm jiggled, bounced like a jump rope.

Seeing a chance, the white clothed opponent jumped from the ground and onto Walter's still connected arm, and began walking – running on water. His cloak ruffled with the air resistance he made as he made swift movements across the slim bridge of wetness. The surface of it was unstable, and quivered with every step. "You think I'm going to let you use me like that!?" Walter shouted, face, jaw, eyes shuddering, trying desperately to remain still and hold back the fear, the scare, the knowledge of any chance of being… absorbed. Walter dispelled the aquatic arm and exploded it into tiny, microscopic bubbles of water into the air, and knowing this, White Cloak jumped from his position and rushed, rushed away into nowhere.

Walter, with his slowly regenerating arm, turned around, eyes shocked, frozen, petrified. His mouth hung wide open, body and mind only vulnerable for a second's worth as he found White Cloak appear right behind him, just inches away from pain, inches away from death. Then, before he knew it, a punch sent him flying to the other hall now, and the two had switched ends. Walter crashed into the wall, making the tenth dent of the long day. He fell to the ground, weak, overtaken by surprise. He dropped on all fours, coughed from the intense whoosh he just got put through. His clothes were ruffled with dust, his voice coughing out hacks of spit. Dust hissed from the dent and cleared almost immediately, ringing in the boy's ears like a memoir, a memoir he neither wanted nor needed.

"You're still weak," White Cloak commented as Walter slowly, much more weakly brought himself up to his feet. His slouched back took a while to straighten out, took a while to bring back to full extent.

"I'm not losing to scum like you!" Walter threatened, bringing up a weakened arm to wipe his mouth. His eyes showed no mercy, and he forced himself ready, just like Eric did. It's time to prove that I am strong… that I can defeat someone much more powerful than me because I have a purpose! Walter declared of himself. He straightened himself up and fixed his stance prepared. The boy scowled at himself, even more at White Cloak. He ran for it, rather quickly, too, and gave a basic, harmless punch to White Cloak. The enemy grabbed his fist right into his gloved hands, the silky fabric eerie and strange to Walter's skin. Walter, realizing he was caught, couldn't help but chatter teeth. The warmness of his clenched fist began to fade and deteriorate; decomposing into a deep numbness that made his tanned fist colder and colder, his tanned fist bluer… and bluer. He watched, eyes full of awe, full of disbelief. He couldn't escape.

"Scum?" White Cloak whispered in a ghastly, raspy voice. "Pay close attention, boy. You'll get nowhere with your goals saying insults like that," he accused. The grip on the boy's arm suddenly grew tighter, more exasperating.

Fingers beginning to lose their feeling, their touch to Walter's body, he forced a strong, dependent answer. "You don't care about my goals!" Walter shot back, angry. His teeth, shaking, were tightly clenched now as well, just as angry as scared. "You never did!"

"No," White Cloak stated bluntly, dully, making his point clear. Walter widened his eyes; why did he think whatever White Cloak said was true? Just because of the enormous difference of power and battle experience between him and himself? It was foolish to think so, but it was also true. "You're wrong," White Cloak spoke softly, gently, as if a calming parent, a serene, affectionate guardian. "The truth is, I've cared all along!" White Cloak brought Walter closer to him and gave him a hard, abnormal punch to the chest and sent him flying to the exact same dent as before. Would they have to repeat this damned cycle? It would not turn into Walter's favor.

Walter spat out a strained cry, wincing horridly as he fell from the crack and back to the ground. His head bowed to the floor, his limbs sprawled on the plaster ground all distorted and broken in the deeper inside. The truth was, that White Cloak had cared all along? Walter thought, contemplating as he heard the solemn, fading footsteps of the enemy – the White Cloak coming closer and closer, tapping the ground with light, exact steps. What… does that mean? What would time tell? "I've always cared, Walter, I always have," White Cloak's voice roamed to the boy's ears. The teenager failed to pick up his head. The footsteps neared. Time was running out. Would Walter die? Would he lose his life? Or would he find out something more, something so much more meaning to life than he could have ever imagined?


	103. Chapter 103

Every step was tense, was blood-freezing. Walter wanted to fall through the dent behind him, fall through the wall, and plummet to the deeps of below, just to escape this – this approaching enemy. He forced his legs to creep closer to him; his arms settled, his head, with shuddering eyes, watched the Scholar come close, and closer, and closer, taking his time with his slow, patient steps. Walter thought of what he said, tried to figure it out, tried to break through it, like it was a mystery, a gift box. No present came out; no jack in the box to complete the toy's name. Everything seemed clouded, upside-down in enigma. The boy listened to the replays of the white scholar's voice, heard them plummet and repeat over and over in his mind like a recording that wouldn't stop.

"This guy," Walter moaned, voice weak as body. "What is he talking about?" he asked himself in a soft murmur, as if something inside him, something deep within him, knew the answer, and refused to tell him. The other side of him – that seemed to know everything was now speechless. Footsteps neared; Walter coughed, casually.

"I'm talking about your pain," White Cloak seemed suddenly closer, few inches away. His shadow fell upon the boy, darkened his features, shadowed away his expressions and plummeted them into deep enigma, an enlightened ebony darkness full of currents that faced every direction and sounds that shared every diction. White gloves felt silky smooth, hateful hard against Walter's neck as they picked his entire body up easily, as if he were a pebble in the hands of a titanic tree, a tremendous sapling beginning its journey with tenfold prowess. Walter could do nothing – he let himself get picked up, for it was the only way he could stand for the first time in his life. White Cloak brought him down against the wall, just like he had wished in his mind. Sediment crumbled downward, he was lost inside the dark, concave dent on the wall. It was suffocating, and so confining, like he was trapped in an iron silhouette.

White Cloak leaned in closer to Walter's ear, so he could so lightly whisper into him, an intrusion of deep, dark words into his mind – his thoughts. They were soft, and seemed so harmless, while his touch, his throttling position burned his skin, boiled his blood. Walter could almost _feel _the human beneath the costume, the hand underneath the gloves; felt the norm warmth of fingers that once used to share happiness, and once used to let go of things that they loved, hated, shared, smiled, shouted, everything. For once, they actually seemed… normal. White Cloak breathed. He touched. He loved; he hated, he thirsted, he lusted. For once, Walter thought, what really was the difference between this – this man who hid himself inside a cloak, inside a shroud of costume, and himself, the boy who had nothing but pain for the last eight years and on? Why did he seem so… connected? So attached, like a leech that was didn't want to be there but was now suppressed by indifference, touched by the sounds of probability and maybe. Yet, something was wrong. The loving fingers had grown cold with hate, raw with anger, the human breathing became beastly, demonically, sharing fingers became selfish and greedy, morphed into something large and ugly and distorted crossing – something so bad that they had to hide behind white, to give themselves the appearance of innocence, the appearance of power, of normality, of pureness? White Cloak brought the other mutated hand to Walter's head, and felt against his forehead; the fingers trickled over his skin softly, smoothly, pleasingly, while Walter, watching them carefully with shuddering eyes, refused, tried to pull away. He couldn't.

"I'm talking about your _goals_," White Cloak went on to say. Listening, Walter's teeth ground each other in reluctance. His skin quivered and feared, nowhere to hide for everything it knew and loved hid behind it. The touch continued to burn Walter's throat, his head, his brain – he was bursting with scarlet boil, turmoil began to infect from his head, his mind, fingering and sinking chaos into his blood, leeching him with great toil, work which was easily succeeded. Walter coughed. Well, at least he thought he coughed. He knew he did something, something involving his throat, his voice, puffing cheeks. He wasn't sure. Not anymore, he wasn't sure. Did he form words? What was the meaning of that last thought? He would need a dictionary, no an axe. Wait, an axe? Why an axe? What was an axe? Look, the walls were orange.

White Cloak's words were the only thing clear into his mind now; his memory – his thoughts, his other half, the people he knew, Eric, the Minors, Tsukansu, they all faded. His eyesight blurred into pure, hot whiteness, a whiteness that shot at him ten thousand times every minute, ten million times a second. The words – they droned on like hypnotism, like a brainwash that didn't seem as bad, as evil anymore – like a good kind of brainwash. An indifferent kind of brainwash. "Your desperate and blistered hands are not wet enough to wash away the pain that is your past," voices echoed – Walter was not even sure if this voice came from White Cloak. Just a voice. A voice he thought, he knew he could trust. Eyes drained of color from the inside, mouth opened wide in authorized access to his body. "If it is wetter you must become, then go, swim in the seas of revenge and lakes of power. Drain yourself from all things that are unimportant, act as if they were. Become filled until you are bursting with hate, anger, revenge, a good feeling of success, for success is all you need. Drown out your fears, everything you know and cared about for your vengeance. Nothing else matters."

Walter said nothing, he had no voice, no soul, no thoughts any longer. Images flashed in his mind. Images of pain, of hurt, of murder, fearful pictures flashing like kaleidoscope formations of eternal bleeding, of extraterrestrial monstrosity, the pain of the world, the depression of society, the killing, the stabbing, the drinking of blood, the sickening nausea that was forced away by power, the punching, the restraint, everything flooded his mind with new thoughts, new things as the pure, gloved fingers traced over the boy's forehead. He was never innocent from the start. "You think you are alone," floods of words and sentences that seemed like a thousand a letter continued to pour in like a waterfall that wouldn't stop crashing down, wouldn't ever give him a chance to fight back. "You are not. I share the same pain as you do. I know you thirst a life, so bad that you lust it; a life without pain. You've felt hurt, scarred emotions and fragile, broken love over and over and you detest it. You spit it out like a horrid acid, a poison that retches your stomach yet it keeps coming back." Walter's eyes continued to drain from reality. Blurred eyesight became blindness. Senses failed, even hearing, and somehow, he still heard words, for they were no longer words – they were omens, they were floods that affected the body, the mind, the soul. Images kept flashing – images of the world. Massacres, manslaughter, suicide, homicide, they all filled his mind. Random people dying – sharing the same pain as he. Tears shed, invisible, noir tears of picture, of screenshot and anecdote, like sightseeing through tiny, tiny glass tubes that allowed you to see a frozen memory of time, a broken piece of the past to share, to learn from, to take in and become one with a million times over, each time with a different piece, a different shard.

"You believe you can wash that pain with power, the pain of your childhood," voice went on. God went on. "You are correct. But you won't get power in a place like this. You won't get revenge from a place like this. Walter, are you listening to me?" it spoke softly, gently, gracefully. Tainted fingers picked him up again and slammed him against the wall, bringing Walter back to reality, a new reality that he now faced. The images faded away and burst away with pain, with a powerful slam, a _powerful _slam that _took away _the _painful _images. Walter breathed sharply, senses rebooting like a restarted computer that had been infected, and now, it no longer knew that it had been infected. His eyes rattled, calmed. "Are you listening!? Huh!?!" White Cloak screamed into Walter's face. The boy, still traumatized, said nothing. The white glove lifted from his forehead.

"Hey…" Walter said, breathlessly, mindlessly, eyes broadened in a possession of hell. His voice was monotone, crackly, uncontrolled my emotion, by thought. "Bastard…" Walter said slowly, staring into space. "Who… are you? You told me you didn't care about me…"

"No," White Cloak spoke, softer this time. "I had to say that because back then in Hanayuki, that annoying witch Shihou was there. I had to pretend I didn't care, so I could make them believe that my goal was to take your powers and rule the world."

"Make… them… believe?" Walter said randomly, repeatedly in his mind, half-conscious with unaware senses, a robotic voice murmuring softly, unable to even whistle sharply to the smallest scale.

"Yes." White Cloak seemed to tense down a bit, shoulders weakening, muscles loosening, unstressed. "Why don't you join me… Walter? Join me in the search for a world – a life without pain! The search for Utopia!"

"A life…without pain?" Walter asked most mindlessly; his presence was absent, nonexistent – on vacation. His eyes did not dilate. His facial features petrified, he found his voice lost once again. "No! You're crazy!" Walter suddenly brought himself back to life more, soul and conscience still dazzled, shaken. He shook his head wildly, knowing no words, no diction. "You're crazy!!"

"Well, then," White Cloak said, surprisingly calm. Walter stopped shaking. He shot a blank stare at the man who had long lived past his years, yet still, surely, had the voice, the movement of a young thirty or twenty year old. "I'll take that as a no. Too bad." Walter watched, confidence scarce as White Cloak drew out the bone dagger from his other hand again. It glimmered in the nonexistent light, dangerous and daring, sharp and death-defying. White Cloak held it close to his body. It seemed to smile a devious smile, and, pulling it back, White Cloak smiled, somewhat happily, somewhat disappointedly. "Then you just might as well die." Walter, eyes widened beyond belief, watched the dagger as it was turned back, then, thrust forward, and he closed his eyes, waited for the pain. Eyes squinted horribly, and began to tense up, waiting for the hurt, the stabbing, hellish dagger to dig deep into his organs, his heart, his chest or stomach, maybe. He waited for the blood to pour out, the blood that would no longer turn to blood because of lack of thought, lack of consideration. Things were confusing, even now. When he had closed his eyes, the dagger had been just seconds – inches away from his face, his throat. Why – why did he feel no pain? Was he all ready dead? Had it been so quick, so swift that he had not even realized his own blood, his own soul leave his body? Or… was it something else?

He tried to open his eyes, slowly and meticulously like shutters being pulled open by one who was afraid of the sun, the bright light – a vampire who wanted to see if his years as a monster had been over, and if not, he might as well just die anyway. A miserable life it had lead, and this is what Walter chose to do at this very moment. Slowly, they opened. Slowly, they revealed the brown eagerness in his eyes, the surprised, shocked face of Kasumi Walter. The dagger – it was just a centimeter away from his throat. He felt its cool, cleanness against his skin, dig deep into the layers, not deep enough for blood. He wanted to swallow, yet he was afraid that his Adam's apple would cause a wound as it dropped down. However, the temptation to swallow went on mindlessly, endlessly. Nervous knots tightened all around, ten of them growing at the same place at the same time, a million times larger than his body. He could no longer breathe. He was scared of that, too. He trailed his eyes to White Cloak's hooded gesture. His face, darkened in shadow and concealing of presence, only revealed his mouth, his mouth that smiled, demonically. Somehow, even though Walter stared deep into his hooded shadow, he knew that White Cloak's eyes were no longer on him. They paid attention to something else – but who? How?

"Shitnenmaru…" the lips moved, dangerously, daringly. Walter's eyes widened, he didn't know why. Even the movement of this – this man scared him now. "It's been a long time." White Cloak's head turned, turned to look past his shoulder, and to the redhead Council in the middle part of the hallway, staring at him, deviously, dangerously, nervously as a sweat drop strolled down his cheeks, and he gulped, swallowed, swallowed for Walter for he could not do it, not yet. A hard, cold glare met Shintenmaru.

"That's enough, White Cloak," Shintenmaru spoke, softly, yet strongly. He cleared his throat from all panic. He became a different person. "You've brainwashed for long enough."

"It's not brainwash, Shintenmaru-san," White Cloak joked with him with his raspy, inhuman voice.

"Enough," the council said, eagerly, coldly, coyly. "I don't plan to discuss this," he snapped.

"Is that a hint of paranoia I sense, Shintenmaru?" White Cloak asked with a smile, a smile that distorted reality and made it and molded it according to his will. Walter, still stressed, listened, tried hard to make the quick, much too fast words out into sense in his confused, clouded mind. His senses seemed ten times slower, slowly rebuilding themselves back to their original norm.

"I told you, I'm not discussing," Shintenmaru shot back, quickly. Suddenly, White Cloak felt stabbing, thin pains into his body, into his arms. He could no longer move; his nervous system was a failure now – he didn't know why. But it only took him a second for his intelligent mind to figure out. He smiled, amused, as if everything was a joke, including the world itself, society's hard word – everything a joke. Threads of glowing, bright yellow connected from various parts of his body, his limbs to Shintenmaru's body. It was the same thing Daniel had done in the Swamp of Mystery with that disked opponent. They were now connected souls. White Cloak's hands trembled, putting fear into Walter's face, distorting it horribly like mashed snow and sand together, an indecisive color. "Your life ends now."

Shintenmaru brought a glowing, holy hand and fingers to his own neck, and began to cause him a struggle, tighten his fingers. That's right. He was strangling himself. His tanned, shaded neck began to discolor, began to become thick and gray and stony, solid. White Cloak's edge of his hood did the same. "Ugh!" White Cloak was forced to choke out. "This old trick…" he murmured to himself in a rasp.

"White Cloak," Shintenmaru said, almost friendlily. He smiled, amused himself for once, as if assured of his own victory, despite taking his own life. "We've both lived too long for our own good. Society and time will move on with generations upon generations. The world does not need us anymore. We've outlived our use." Tan skin turned more into stone, reached Shintenmaru's cheeks and edge of his hair. The soft glow continued, the threads connecting their souls shimmering in the absent light. The stony hood of White Cloak did the same, and he muttered out, from pain of course. Half of White Cloak's neck, hidden beneath darkness, was stony, discolored, solid and inhuman. He was finally becoming the monstrosity he had always been, but now on the outside.

"No…" White Cloak could barely speak now. "I'm not done yet," he rasped. "Who else will have the power to bring upon Utopia!? Who else will guide others into a world without pain! I am the one that has to get rid of the interferences that the world has because they are the obstacles that prevent it from reaching Utopia by itself! You and the rest of the damned councils are just another example, a major one at that!" White Cloak began to strengthen his voice, his body. His limbs struggled to move, shuddering. Shintenmaru widened his eyes. No way… the council thought. He's resisting the Soul Link just by using brute force? Impossible! White Cloak broke his arm free of the hold, and the fingers began to glow softly in a quiet murmur of voice as he brought it up like an axe into the air. No way! Shintenmaru thought as he watched. The hand was brought down, and then – cut the threads.

The links broke away; their souls were no longer bound. Shintenmaru fell to the floor immediately. He cried out, half his face now stone, slowly breaking itself into normal again. White Cloak stood, still strong, yet half his face covered in stone as well. "Your efforts for an instant kill are useless," White Cloak ridiculed. "But I'll give it to you." White Cloak put out the stone half of his face out in the light. His grayed cheeks seemed so inhuman, so clean yet so dark. It began to crack, sift a soft noise of breaking inside, deep, deep inside. "This'll take a while to wear off." Shintenmaru did not reply. He breathed heavily, on his knees, clutching the side of his neck, begging his powers to release the half-death he caused for his own body to release itself. His stony mask began to crack, sift as well, yet slower than White Cloak's. "But – that's not the deal for you, now is it?" White Cloak chuckled. "No matter. I don't have time for this," he began to leave Shintenmaru, as well as Walter without taking a last glance at him. Walter watched, feeling unimportant. Just minutes ago White Cloak seemed so involved in him. Now he seemed to be ignoring him.

"Wait!" Shintenmaru begged, voice unstable, masked face distorted. Walter fell to the floor, weak, unable to move. His stare followed White Cloak as he went into the next hall.

"No!" White Cloak snapped. "I have business to attend to. Not too far from here." White Cloak's presence suddenly faded – faded into nothingness.

"Damn it! No!" Shintenmaru cried out, voice weak and raspy, stony. Walter was left there – unattended, scared.

PoVS

The door rattled open. It brought in light to the deep, darkened room. Two presences walked inside, their shoes clicking on the shadows, hurting them, hitting them with impatient steps. Their silhouettes became clouded, dark figures in the light source behind them. Their bare features were seen. The sounds of sleeping, purring, and low growling filled the wide room of twelve, walled cages. This was a different room – a room not of Jeremy's presence. Shihou stepped in, Kanadou hot on her trail. "It's been a rough day," she conversed.

"Yeah," Kanadou agreed. Their steps continued past a few cages. Low, beastly sounds murmured in their ears, delightful tunes. "At least it's finally over." Shihou walked over to a cage. She bent down, nodded her head in agreement.

"It is finally over," Shihou spoke softly, gently as she brought her face closer to the iron bars of the cage. She smiled, friendlily. "Isn't that right, Kibahina-kun?" Shihou smiled into the cage. A low growling from the darkness answered back. It was a weak, tired growling, signs of a long, lonely day. Shihou felt sympathy for the thing; but it had to be locked up. For its own safety – and for hers, for the whole dimension in fact. "Sorry for keeping you; you don't mind, right?" Another low, bored growl answered her from weakly, meaninglessly ground teeth.

"We can't spend too much time with the backups," Kanadou muttered scornfully, a low scowl beneath that stylish mask of his that hid his appearance – his face. He stuffed his hands eagerly, nervously into his pocket. It really had been a long day.

"Yeah, yeah," Shihou brushed him off. Kanadou sighed, weakly. "Don't call them that; don't you want to see Chiri-kun?" Shihou asked sympathetically. "I'm sure it's lonely without you."

"No, I have no need for him right now," came her answer.

"Oh, Kanadou!" Shihou scorned. "Don't be so cold!" she said, almost cheerfully, and went back to Kibahina, softly smiling at it. A low, scarce growl came from the depths of the weak shadowy cage. Today was not a normal day for it, either. It had seen something. Something horribly wrong – something it didn't want to ever experience again. If only Shihou was around enough to know. But, she, along with Kanadou, would find out soon enough anyways.


	104. Chapter 104

Darkness remained solemn, silent, watchful. It was afraid, just like any other natural thing in the room at the time. The caged bars of sleek, rough clean metal failed to move; they stayed in place, as if scared that if it moved, something horrible would happen. A low, despaired moan put shocks in the metallic spines of the cages. This soft, pained moan did not come from Kibahina; it came from something else – something similar to that one backup, yet not quite the same.

Shihou turned her head. A look of confusion tightened her face; her eyes blinked delicately. Her body froze, as if she were trapped in a border of time, a frame of frosty numbers. "Kanadou," she spoke in a soft, alert murmur. Vigilantly her voice came to the council; softly were the letters, each tongued perfectly into succession. "Did you hear something?" she asked, getting back up on her feet once again. Once again, the low, eerie moan echoed from the depths of the world of darkness. The two councils peered on, watching attentively for any movement, any suspicion they may catch. Nothing. Shihou's senses twitched on – rather quickly, swiftly, taking no chances. With a tiny, unneeded swallow of tongue and throat, she took a cautious step forward, their intervals far apart, yet growing shorter. Then, soon, Kanadou followed, followed her into the dark. And as they did, the cries went on – eerily, mindlessly, uselessly, as if asking them, begging them to come forward. Like a trance, they followed – with subconscious footsteps.

PoVS

Back in the deep, tense filled halls where the walls cracked and dented, Kasumi Walter's consciousness lingered around him, as if bullying him, danced around him horridly, mindlessly, as he seemed to have no notice, no heart or emotion to share. No movement of finger, of eyes – no blinking, perhaps not even breathing. He just sat, body parts sprawled on the floor like a jumble of jigsaw waiting, pleading to be put back, wishing to be in order, organized into perfection, a painless position, just like Walter had wished for his whole life. The shadows seemed to call to him, and like a doll, he followed. He blinked. Once. Twice. He was now back to reality; his stare had zoned off for much too long. His lungs began to work again, inhaling and exhaling, contracting and expanding. He began to feel the silent, soft rapping of heart, its light, quiet whispers the only thing that kept him knowing, knowing that he was alive. What he had just seen… what White Cloak had just made him seen – the pain of the world, the murder, the betrayal, the depression and purposeful accidents; they were all real – he knew that now. And now, eyes still widened as if stuck in a trance where he might as well be drooling, he picked himself up, shook himself out of it, yet still amazed, still affected and shocked from those flashing, seizure images of black and white noir. They seemed to flip like a layered comic book, corner after corner of a tiny speck of paper flipping and flapping like an eager bird's wing, a fluttering of feather only heard in the deepest depths of silence.

This boy was no longer quite normal – nor was he from the beginning of his life. However, now, not even his thinking was normal, his moving was normal. No, because now, there was no definition of normal. Not since he became a Minor – not since everything started, beginning from his father's murder. Mindlessly, he snapped himself out of his daze, got his mind working again. Inside, he no longer felt the same, but he denied the feeling. He denied it all. He began to walk, slowly at first, then speeding up, realizing that gravity allowed such speed. Then, he blinked once more, and his eyes – they became narrowed once again, mean, as if agitated, annoyed. They seemed full of turmoil inside, and vulnerability, flashing the weakness of his emotions. He breathed, yet it failed to remind him that he was human – a Minor. He seemed to send shivers down the spine of the darkest shadows, the strongest walls.

Wordlessly, mindlessly, he passed Shintenmaru, eyes narrowed in a sort of hate, grudge almost. The clicking of his own shoes were silenced, as if they, too, became scared of him, scared of his every action, every breath. The council, still on the floor, watched him as he left, watched with kneeled legs and a shell back. One half of his face was now stone, slowly taking its time to heal, slowly cracking back into a moist, soft skin. He could only breathe half as well anymore, and on top of this, he began to feel light-headed. Confused stares took minutes longer to comprehend that the person of whom he was watching was Walter. He managed to get one thought and one thought only from his mind, as if the Gods disallowed any further thinking, for it was poisonous – lies. Is everything repeating faster than we expected…? Shintenmaru thought as his mind went to sleep, slowly swaying away from his soul and dispatching into the missing link.

All this council could do now was watch, watch with frozen, broken feet and crooked, disabled legs – a clouded mind that told him such lies to keep him immobile, to keep him waiting, waiting for something even it didn't know. And so Shintenmaru continued to eye this – this boy, this boy who seemed much more important than he, much more important than a council, as this same boy turned the corner, and faded from sight.

PoVS

The light humming of a machinery filled the room with a monotone yet somehow harmonious tune. The zigzag lines were indecisive, not knowing which way was up, which was top or bottom, trying to tag each at the same time continuously as the steady beeping told it that time was running out. All eyes targeted Eric, all nervous biting of nails snapping towards him. Darkness and light shared this room, for Eric was this selfless, greedless. His solemn unmoving fingers and features reminded everyone just how great he was, just how powerful, not only in physical terms, but in emotional and mental terms as well. The monotone wires of silvery blue and darkish gray with their hints of translucency plugged into Eric, as if searching, intervening his body like devious snakes that wanted to leech him of good soul, his blood and life. His closed eyes remained unharmed, unaware, untroubled. His unconcerned lips had no use for talking, for they rested, rested from the shouting while his burnt hands slowly healed themselves with a certain unconscious automaticity. Slow breaths came in from his nose, came out without the live rising and falling of chest. They watched, hoping he was okay.

All was fine, like a temple of silence, of prayer, of godly respect. People did not move, did not even think to speak at the moment, or even move for that matter. Soon, their solemn, religious ritual of muteness ended, interrupted by a low creaking of door, a slow moaning of plaster.

All eyes, knowing that their saintly routine had been disrupted, looked to the door, almost angrily, hatefully. Eyes turned rather quickly, to see who had disturbed their biblical ceremony of gratitude, appreciation. A presence stepped in, rather slowly, apologetically, respectfully. Slowly, the door closed behind her, slowly came in Sound Minor Marissa. She grinned, sympathetically, and no longer was the anger present. "How is he doing?" she asked in a whisper, as if not to disturb the sequence of procedure. They nodded, as if that were to answer her question, a tiny, unenergetic nod.

"Not too bad," Minoa answered with a soft touch in voice. She had her hands folded over each other, in front of her, as if she had been paying respects. Marissa nodded back, and held something shiny, something tall and glamorous yet one of soft, humble glory in her two, delicate hands, folded them with grace. Hibiyomi stood at Minoa's side, and none seemed to mention, or notice the modest tower of star in the Minor's grasp. "He should be fully recovered in the next day."

"Next day, huh?" Hanabikai spoke, his boyish voice hard to keep quiet, calm. "It was amazing." Confused faces went to him, silently, notably. He kept his eyes on the Minor, a folded smile of pride on his face, his eyes glinting lightly in the mechanical light. "How he survived that attack, I mean. I'd expect much more wounds…but he stayed alive Amazing, this guy." Many nodded, some smiled.

"Sure is," Derek agreed. A disruption in the expected flow knocked everything off tempo. Suddenly, hurriedly, a presence stormed in, knocked the door over with a giant slam. The ruckus rang in everyone's ears, and everyone turned with mean, angry stares, as if the noise would wake Eric from his earned rest of unconsciousness. Hanabikai especially. Who would do such a thing, something so respectful? It was none other than Kanadou, who breathed heavily as if he had run a hundred miles non-stop. Sweat even came at his mask, that horrid, creepy mask even seeming tired in its own distortion. His chest rose and fell, as if for Eric's tire, and tried to speak, yet couldn't; he had dropped his voice along with his words along the way there – it had been such a rush that this was possible.

"Hanabikai!" he shouted, disrespectfully. People scowled, watched.

"Kanadou!" Hanabikai said, almost scornfully. "You look stressed; what's wrong?" he demanded immediately.

"It's the backups!" Kanadou said, voice choked, new. "Sametsuki is injured!" Confused faces as to what a backup was dazzled the room like decorations. Two other faces knew what they were however, and froze in shock, alert.

"What!" Hanabikai retorted rather quickly, swiftly, wasting no time. "Sametsuki-kun?" A face of fear, stress washed over him like nausea, a nausea that wouldn't give up. "This is bad," he muttered to himself, almost quietly. People no longer cared for the silence of the ritual – for that was something long gone now. Now, they just paid attention, hoping to gain enough information from the bare words they heard emerging from tense, fear-growing lips. Hanabikai seemed to appear deep in thought for bare seconds only, until he looked back and began to tell Kanadou what to do. "Quickly alert Shintenmaru. We have to treat Sametsuki immediately. Send someone to watch out after Tsukansu!"

"Yes!" Kanadou followed, as if orders from a colonel. With that word, he stormed out, knocked the door once more out of his way and ran with panicky, unorganized steps that shuffled across dark plaster. He was in a fury of sweat and agility; nothing could stop him because of his fear, because of his sparse security.

"You guys; stay here until we get back," Hanabikai informed the three Minors in the room, turning to them almost immediately after the Earth Council had left the room. Behind him, Minoa looked tense, a lock of discipline in her eyes. Teresa nodded on behalf of the Minors, and with that, they began to hurry off through the threshold of the door, quickly out in a flash of a second. "Don't move from here!" Hanabikai yelled as he ran, quickly moving.

"Be careful," Minoa said to the Minors as she began to head for the door. She nodded, carefully, disciplinarily. Teresa seemed confused. "And Teresa," Minoa said just before reaching the hallway. Teresa walked to the door, solemnly, slowly, taking her nervous indifferent time. Her delicate hand brushed over the dusty plaster and darkness. Her face stretched in worry, her own panic because she didn't even know what was going on. What was a backup? Why is everyone so panicky? Why are they sending someone to watch after Tsukansu? These same three thoughts repeated over and over in each Minor's mind in the room. "If Eric wakes up, don't tell him about anything," she instructed friendlily, and rushed out the door. Her presence was gone in the snap of a finger, a blink of an eye.

Seconds after Minoa had stormed out, Teresa scoffed and turned back to the Minors. They stared at her, confused, as if she were to explain to them what was going on, for Minoa had chosen her to keep a secretive job. "I couldn't tell him anything even if I wanted to," Teresa explained, dumbfounded with a comical, humorous face. Marissa sighed.

"They seem to look up to Hanabikai for advice a lot," Marissa pointed out, standing by the wooden nightstand as she held that glimmering piece of glass in her hands, remaining unnoticed. She brought a hand to brush her blonde hair behind her ear. She smiled, nervously.

"Yeah, I guess so. It sure looks like it," Teresa answered without looking at the Sound Minor. The mention of Hanabikai reminded her so much of Eric, and in effect, she looked to the boy, looked at his quiet, unconcerned face in the world, his whole spirit seeming away from reality, and in an awesome dream somewhere, a surreal dimension where he could rest for once, and not worry about the ones he loved. The ones he cared about – who never required giving anything back, selflessly.

PoVS

Eager minutes later, a loud thud of a knock took its toll on a wooden door. A head turned from within the deep darkness of the room. Shadows devoured most of the room in its darkness, disabling it. "Who…who is it!?" a scarce, breaking voice asked, nervous with tension, fear.

"It's Hyoumaru!" the voice called out from the door. It was muffled, choked. "Sametsuki-kun is-"

"I know!" the familiar voice cut off eagerly, as if it didn't feel like wasting time. The voice shook on in panic, petrified, a stony, screeching voice like a ghost, an afraid ghost not wanting to meet its demise. "That's why I'm…" the voice let itself trail off. The darkness hissed, evilly, as if casting a dark spell over and under the ceiling, filling the whole wide relaxing room with dark magic.

"I'm coming in!" Hyoumaru's scuffle answered quickly, eagerly now as well. His voice demanding, decisive. This was what the dweller was afraid of.

"No, wait!" the voice pleaded, begged. "Not yet! Don't come in yet! Just wait!" it went on to implore, loudly, demonically, voice horribly distorting in the last few words where it mumbled in a robotic tone, an inhuman voice.

Too late. The door slammed open, and light poured into the room from outside. The dark, tall figure of Hyoumaru provided shade for the entrance, a long triangle of light trapping his surfaced silhouette in a stretching of brightness. He stared into the room, and found the person he was looking for. "Holy crap… what have you -?"

Cut off; once again. "I told you to wait!" the fully demon voice roared, fully transformed, completely morphed into its deviance. It gave a loud, hungry growl – and jumped from the depths of dark, charged at Hyoumaru. It scowled as it opened its horrid mouth wide open, a beastly set of teeth just sopping with its own saliva. Tsukansu roared once more, and brought its mutated arm in the air, ready to swipe, nails becoming claws in just seconds. Hyoumaru scowled back, and sent a wave of cold, freezing mist to knock it back down to the floor.

"Calm down!" Hyoumaru demanded, like an army commander. He sneered. Tsukansu, reluctant, roared in defiance, fixed himself on the ground. Half his body was gone now – dispersed into a horrid mutation. A deep blue finned tail waved behind him, playing with the air. A long, sharp scale of a fin protruded from his back, his skin turning a horrible, corpse blue. His eyes smiled demonically, glinted like a silvery knife, his arms thinning and thinning to the bone and nails sharpening to a sharp, yellow set of claws. Saliva drooled from his mouth, monstrously as his murderous stare stared on, the mutation finishing. His brown hair was slowly diminishing to a dark blue fur, a wild head of hair behind him. He was on all fours, councils robes ripped apart, sleeves torn off and the torso as well. A long, sickening tongue wet with dribble emerged beastly from his cragged, sharp teeth, painted his lips all around, as if getting its appetite ready. Hyoumaru felt aware, prepared, yet afraid. He didn't want to harm Tsukansu in anyway – underneath that horrid, unsightly monster hid the real soul of his teammate – the real man he had grown up with. "Damn it," Hyoumaru murmured to himself, watching the monstrosity carefully as it prepared itself against the wall, many tables and chairs in their way just waiting to be destroyed – frozen or torn apart to bits and splinters. "It affected him this much all ready? I can't believe it."

At the sound of such a familiar voice, even at a low level like his, Tsukansu – or what used to be Tsukansu, roared angrily, despairingly, as if he was in pain. Then, the mutation drew its long, snake-like tongue back in, and growled, jumped for the door – for outside! In a flash, Hyoumaru closed the door and backed up against it, Tsukansu just inches away from him, drooling in a disgusting, nauseating dribble. He swallowed hard, smelled the fresh, uneasy odor of the sea, the stench of his breath so foul and bloodstained. It growled in the council's face. "Sorry, I can't let you out." Tsukansu didn't care; he roared all the same, growled like a lion, the beast he was. The transformation went on – the brown of his hair slowly became the dark, demon blue. However, his brown eyes were still there – still hints of humanity, of mortality.

With that, Tsukansu swiped at Hyoumaru's head; the council ducked to dodge. Seeing a chance, the council kicked his teammate in the chest, and sent him flying to a table. His body crashed into it, shuddered the chairs beneath it. A horrid shriek of creature moaned through the walls, the darkness that seemed to slowly back away, they, too, scared. An icy bead of anxious perspiration and panicky sweat began to form at Hyoumaru's side of his face. He swallowed hard, indecisive of what to do. He couldn't hurt Tsukansu, but he couldn't let himself get torn apart, either. "I don't want to hurt you, Tsukansu," he spoke his partner's name. A mythical roar answered him. One had to wonder if the boy Tsukansu used to be was really still there.

PoVS

Shihou looked over the wound of the creature, still in that same room, watching the Sametsuki very carefully as it breathed, its body slowly rising and falling. The stench of salt water wafted to her, and nauseously, she ignored it. Her eyes trailed over its weak, wet body, and found many things wrong with it – which was not good news. An answer to her prayers, a knock found its way to the door. "Hurry, come in!" she pleaded. The door opened, and many presences rushed in like a crowd of jumpy teenagers. "I need a while to figure out what kind of wound this is," she informed the crowd behind her, watching over her shoulder and onto Sametsuki's cut on its body.

"But how did he get injured?" an eager, dumbfounded voice asked behind her. It was definitely Madasora. He always had been the slow one, acting all cool and smart in front of the Minors. "I mean, who would do such a thing, who could have such easy access?"

"It was White Cloak," a quick answer came dully from hard, stony lips. Many gasped, and turned to Shintenmaru.

"White Cloak?! Why would you say -" Kakori scolded.

Shintenmaru took his chance and interrupted his teammate. "He came back, all right?! Can't you see that!? Look at my face! It won't heal for years, don't you see? Why else would I do it? To commit suicide? White Cloak came back and you know exactly why he would, too!" He pointed to his horrid distortion of stone. Half his face was solid gray, lifeless. It nauseated some, and others began to feel guilty, sympathy.

"You're right, Shintenmaru," the words of Hanabikai spoke. "And he's still out there…somewhere. But, at least his goals do not involve harming the Inner World," he pointed out.

"Yes," an agreement from Dirondo said, her voice delicate, angelic. "But he will in order to get what he wants." Hanabikai nodded his head. He all ready knew that – and things were about to get intense again. Just when they thought this day was over. "We have to be careful," Dirondo went on. "This could be the end of everything – nothing's safe anymore." Everyone in the room nodded, agreed. From now on, hearts would be constantly beating much too hard, much too fast – in fact, pounding against ribcages. Just because of something that happened in a matter of minutes, hours, in fact. Very few hours at that.


	105. Chapter 105

Darkness abraded against the walls, taking them into surreal reality upon surreal reality. Light and dark once again became decisive, easily distinguished, and at the solemn whisper of news came the disappointment, for this one knowledge told them that darkness was what ruled the world – a great man's efforts became bare against it. Eyes, millions of eyes and dimmed, silhouetted faces watched, each with a mirror image of itself, a crowd of nervous, vigilant insects staring mindlessly into something so crazy, so horrid – that the only thing they could do was watch. They buzzed on, uselessly, mindlessly, annoying stings of air and vibration fingered from gibberish mouths and garbage tongues, strewn like a rusty harp played poorly from the touch of cragged, unholy fingers.

Eyes rolled distantly, scanning skillfully, as if automatically. Their surveillance gaze shot in twenty directions, closely examining, observing, sleuthing like a bloodhound hot on a case. Lustrous purple head of hair shivered in strands, cold, numbing in the darkness. Hands softly felt around the wound, the cut, as low moans from an inhuman shape and being creaked in despair. Voices failed to speak, lost among the audience of eyes, small, tiny stars encased in individually shaped white cages, visible in the blackened dark. One voice, solely returned for one purpose only, began to speak, trying to bring the others back. "How do we go about the current situation? We need a plan," Kanadou asked, eagerly behind his distant, glowing eyes.

Nervous eyes stared, narrowed, unsure. Almost immediately, Shintenmaru began to speak. "First, we need to heal this wound; otherwise, Tsukansu will go crazy. Then, we need to get White Cloak out of this dimension ourselves." Others agreed, some waited, one spoke.

"But we also have to get _them_ for assistance, don't we? That takes a big chunk of our team if we want to do that," Hanabikai answered, piqued the interests of others. "Also, Hibiyomi is still healing from the fight – he won't be able to do anything for a while."

"What you say is true," Shintenmaru admitted. Familiar pair of eyes narrowed. "However, can we really risk using the Minors to go against White Cloak is the question. Especially with Eric healing for the rest of the night." Hanabikai squinted uneasily, unhappily, as if a bit humiliated, along with his own humor and pleasure, a tiny blush of some sort. "In any case, have Madasora and Minoa found anything in Sametsuki's cage?"

"Yeah," Madasora's silly voice came from the deeps. There came the sound of splashing water, flowing waves. Madasora neared – followed by Minoa. The outspoken council held up a hand with a glimmering prowess to it. Its hopeful glints caught many eyes, as the blackened fingers sprawled over the crystal. "A green shard or something, stuck to the wall. It has Sametsuki's blood on it."

"Could that be the object that caused the wound?" Shihou asked, staring at it as if it were to talk, as if it were going to do a trick. Her hands delicately froze on the body of Sametsuki, feeling its low cries utter from within it, a beastly groan, a human pain. Her eyes narrowed, examining the crystal, as if it had the secret of the world inside, so meticulously, so watchfully it hid it away.

"We believe so," Minoa stepped up. More sounds of washing, calm water.

"All right then," Shihou said, glad that she did not had to examine the wound any longer, for Sametsuki was losing a lot of blood – and she was sure that Hyoumaru had, too, at this point.

"No," Shintenmaru interrupted. Voices muttered, defiantly. Heads turned, watched. "Look closer," he insisted. All eyes turned to the green crystal. They seemed questioned, confused. "The shape of the shard doesn't fit the shape of the wound if it were to cut it," Shintenmaru began to explain. Minds began to clear. Ahs began to sound from low, silent voices that still seemed lost. "Also, even if it were to cut it like that, it would have blood on the side, yet it has blood only on the tip – meaning that it had to be shot and shot at Sametsuki's body. However, he has a cut, and not a stab. It's a trick purposely set by White Cloak," the council made everything clear.

"He knows us too well," Kakori muttered sadly, sympathetically, as if for his teammates and his teammates only, not him. "If we had fallen for that trick and healed the wound the wrong way, Tsukansu would have gone berserk and killed us all, especially the Minors." He shivered at the thought, the image of it, of Tsukansu ripping their bodies apart. Kakori winced.

"Keep working on the wound, Shihou," Shintenmaru said tensely, nervously, anxiously, as if he, too, had been imaging the horror that could occur if they did not treat the wound as fast as possible. He picked his glasses up closer towards his face, coyly. Timidly, he began to show all signs of different nervous habits – clearing his throat, swaying his feet against the ground, dusting it, staring off into many, different directions only to find nothing of interest to, once again, change direction. "I need to know how to heal it," he spoke with a cracking voice. He cleared his throat, once again.

PoVS

Hyoumaru's heart pounded against his chest like a thousand drums of a holiday parade as the perspiring heat kept coming. In the darkness, he could only tell the faint, sway movements of Tsukansu's mutated form, barely dodging each attack as they were just a second away, scarcely. A slender, sickeningly skinny arm of gill and shark came from the shadows. Hyoumaru gasped, dodged it, ducking to the side as a loud crash shook the whole room, the crash of Tsukansu's body into the wall.

The council dodged backward and collapsed to the next wall, tripping over his own feet. He gasped an exasperated inhale, and pretended that nothing happened. He crumbled on his feet, legs week, arms tired, lungs pleading, begging for more air even thought it had a hundred times more than enough. The smoke to the opposite wall began to clear – he could see it in the eroding darkness. Dark, demonic eyes pierced the ebony reality, and growled, growled like a beast. Hyoumaru scowled. The beast came, running.

"Stay still, god damn!" Hyoumaru shouted tediously, impatiently. He put his arm out, poured Free Spirit energy outward and out came growing spikes of ice from the ground at Tsukansu's feet. The mutant's feet were caught, halting its skillful run. It growled as it realized it was captured, but no more growls came from then – it no longer moved. It was completely trapped in ice no, the cliché way of doing it. Hyoumaru gasped out tiredly, almost exhilarated completely out of panic. Beckoning, evil eyes stared, petrified into a chilly permafrost. Accusingly, they shot out, pierced the ice interiorly, lit up the darkness with its vindication-stripping stare. The monstrous gaze tightened knots in Hyoumaru's chest and throat. He swallowed – hard. It wasn't good enough; soon his throat would grow tired of swallowing so much and just give up completely.

Hyoumaru healed up as best as he could. He was lucky he had no wounds, but he was pretty tired. Crazy patterns of inhales and exhales told him that he was alive, told him that he kept staying in reality, that he wasn't caught up in a crazed psychosis. He felt like hallucinating, however. Taking his eyes off the block of ice for a second, the sound of cracking filled the air. Chilly temperatures never exited, made by the constant fighting of the Ice and Water Councils. Once again, Hyoumaru swallowed, looking back to the tower of frozen ice, frozen presence He wished he could stay there a bit longer, oh, how he wished he'd just stay frozen until the mutation was over. But no, his wishes did not come true. Tsukansu roared as he ripped apart the ice from just a few cracks, as if he had been not too patient, not too amused. He didn't seem like he felt like waiting, and because of that, Hyoumaru scowled at his own misfortune.

Sneering, Hyoumaru thought, Damn it, Shintenmaru! How long does it take to figure out what kind of wound something has and heal it? Are you really trying to get me to die? Tsukansu roared, demonically, teeth opening wide and broadly like an open hunger of terror, never satisfied, never filled, never fragile enough to break. One more horrid, signifying roar of craved victory came from the distortion of lips from Tsukansu – or what used to be Tsukansu. Now he was a beast, an ugly beast that was a monstrosity of hell, a being of ungodliness. Reluctantly, Hyoumaru lifted himself from the floor in unwanted, non-lusted preparation. A punch to Tsukansu. A dodge from Tsukansu. The beast moved out of the way, to they side, tried to pound Hyoumaru with a smack of his tail. Hyoumaru ducked, turned it to a kick – his kick was caught by creepy, skinny fingers that were blue with decay and cold with death. The hissing ocean breath was hot yet cold, creepy, foul on Hyoumaru's face. Grunting, Hyoumaru was spent spinning, then flying in a flipping cycle, and then crashed into a wall, not strong enough to make a dent in it.

The whole room seemed to shudder in a certain automaticity of reaction, as if it, too, had feelings; it, too, had a mind, a mind that could comprehend pain and suffering between love and healing. Shocked, Hyoumaru spat out, "Damn you!" He fell to the floor, overtaken, taking just a slight moment to catch his breath before his body was torn apart. "That's Hibiyomi's trick!" Touching the ground with his confident palms of prowess, he sent the whole floor frozen in a thin, frosty layer of icy cold blue. It started from his fingers, chilling with a frothy white smoke that was barely seen, barely felt, only breathed. The cold air became numbing, winter-like. Horns of ice, like thorns of a rose emerged from the ground, grew as if they were natural, rising like walls to protect, to defend, as well as attack. The ocean of solid, innocent blue spread outward like a grounded sky, frosted over the darkened, dusty floors and made them forget their harsh, selfish memories. New bedding was beginning, a new layer to succeed, to think, to begin its new life, and slowly dominated the ground with spikes, with powerful claws of ice.

"Damn you," Hyoumaru growled as he dominated the whole floor. Suspecting a chance to lose, Tsukansu jumped from the ground and hung from the ceiling, swinging like an undisciplined child from the corpse ceiling lights. He growled in his own monstrosity, as if respectively, a long tongue drooling from the corners of his mouth with a sticky, incest dribble. Sharp, triangular teeth were like a million fangs as they seemed to be so hateful, so careless that they were to bite their own tongue. Evil eyes glared, challengingly as the whole, blued body continued to swing, swing like a child in a jungle who wanted to be Tarzan. "Damned monst-" Hyoumaru's repeated insult was cut off as Tsukansu, angrily, jumped from the dwindling lights and plummeted to the ground. Hyoumaru was taken by surprise, and now Tsukansu was on top of him, breathing all over his face, the saliva masking him now, the tongue so close, so devious. A low, eerie groan came from the voice of something else – someone not Tsukansu. It was like he had been possessed – but really, he almost was.

Hyoumaru brought his feet to Tsukansu's abdomens. They struggled to move, their arms tightly locked around each other in a wrestle of hold, neither side giving up. Then, finally, with a strong jerk and kick, Hyoumaru sent Tsukansu flying to the other side of the room. He crashed into ice, fell to the floor. Demonically, it cried out, sent a wave of pressurized water in a blasting stream. Hyoumaru smiled, as if glad to be paired up with such an attack. "Come on, Tsukansu, do you really think an attack like that is going to work against me?" Hyoumaru put out his hand to split the wave in two, the streaming water sliced in have as the forked water slowly became ice itself, the whole stream ending soon from realization that it was no use. "Why do you think the rest of the Council sent me to face you, of all people, after all?" All his teammate could do now was growl, angrily, desperately. Hyoumaru knew Tsukansu was despairing inside as well. He sighed, sympathetically. "I can't believe this; it's like when the Minors are around, we actually have to get off our butts to save their lives," he spoke with tediousness.

PoVS

Moments later, Shintenmaru found himself lightly fingering the wound, lightly touching it with the face of his fingers, the taste of his palm. The low moans of the creature beneath the caring hands seemed to whistle out, almost happily. The tilting light of his healing that silhouetted his hands poured faint glows onto everyone's hopeful faces. 'Don't just look over my shoulder," Shintenmaru scolded. Many people seemed shocked, backed away, scared, almost. "Have you guys checked on the other backups?"

"Yes," came his answer from the confident voice of Hanabikai. "They're all fine."

"Then Sametsuki-kun was the only one targeted," Shintenmaru sighed, exasperatedly. It had been a tiresome day. Everyone knew it. They just couldn't believe they had to work overtime for the rest of the night. How tiresome this would get. Many cursed White Cloak at this moment in their mind, scowling at him with inside gestures of blood, of organ, of mind. "Was it just a random picking, I wonder, or was it something more?" No one knew; no one answered. "Hanabikai," he called his fellow teammate's name. Hanabikai stirred. "Go to Tsukansu. Hold him down. The wound's just about done," he instructed.

Hanabikai muttered a low "yes," and nodded, walked out. The clicking of his shoes was followed by the trailing eyes of the councils behind him. Soon his presence left, and the door remained wide open, a large mouth begging, beckoning to eat another, for it had not seen food in such a long time; it now needed, desperately, for someone to walk through its threshold of toothless decay and feed it, coming out the other end much too soon. "Be careful," Shintenmaru warned. From far away, everyone, somehow, sensed that Hanabikai had stopped, sighed, and nodded. Then, the walking had resumed, the clicking feet came back to entertain those who had a long night. "Someone," Shintenmaru began once again. He watched the glow of his fingers trace and sew the red cut closed with invisible thread. The cold-blue skin began to form back again, as if contracting and making the wound invisible, sending it to nothingness. "Get the Minors together; we need them to know about the current situation so we can further plan what to do."

"I'll go," Raikettei volunteered. He got up on his feet, stretched as if he had been sitting there for the whole day. He let out an exasperated sigh of relief, and felt the loose muscles tingle inside him. "I haven't done anything in a while," he said as he began for the door, the next meal. His robes dragged along behind him.

"That's fine," Shintenmaru instructed, mindlessly, as if he didn't know a clue about what he was saying yes to, what he was accepting. His eyes just seemed to drone on, attentively, at the wound, at the soft, starry glow of his fingers as they healed, as they repaired. The job would soon be done, he knew. He just had to give it some more time. More time was all it needed. More time.

PoVS

Raikettei walked through the halls, tiresome, bored. He was glad to get up on his feet again and do something for once. Ever since the Minors came into the Council's lives, he had done nothing, nothing of importance, of significance. Now, he was glad he was able to help – to get all the Minors together. However, such a thing would be awkward, it was possible. They barely knew him, and he barely knew them. However, that would not stand in the way – it would make no problem or obstacle whatsoever. He had to do his job, despite whatever feelings he had, good or bad – that's one of the many things he had to learn as a council. "What a troublesome night," he heard his echoes bounce back to him from the empty, dispersed halls. Darkness crawled around him, secretly, sneakily. He yawned, tired. His bald head seemed perfect, round, human. There was something about it that just shouted, "Mean!" or "scowl!" yet he was nothing of the sort. He was a kind, gentle man, if you took the time to notice, of course. "Just when I thought the day ended…" he droned on, talking to himself solely out of his own monotone misery.

All was silent around him – not a sound, not even a hiss of darkness, a crumble of wall. Somehow, hearing that White Cloak had successfully snuck into their dimension, being in the halls didn't seem right anymore. It just didn't seem… safe. That was all. But it was a mere emotion. Something to get over about. Emotions like a paranoid feeling in your home caused by a recent happening are bound to wear off, anyways. Again, it was nothing to worry about, nothing to nick your nails with your teeth about. Nothing to stare off into space about, to imagine about. No reason at all. "Let's see; where did Hanabikai said they were?" he asked himself, thinking back into his poor memory. "The hospital room? Of course," he got the answer, happy that there would be no interference any longer. "With Eric most likely." He continued to walk down the hall, turn the corner, a deep, recollected thought returning in his mind, forcing a smile. "I don't know what it is about that Fire Element…" Raikettei began to speak to himself. "Why do they seem to get along with everyone first?"

Turning the corner that led to another hall, there was a flash, a blur of darkness, of presence at the other end. Raikettei didn't seem to notice, and kept walking. As soon as he reached the other way to another hall, the dark blur came rushing again, the same time he passed it, like a reflection, a copycat of a window. Raikettei stopped speaking; he stared off to the corner of his eyes, which were darkly narrowed, secret. He was not nervous, he was alert. He turned the corner. Again the dark flurry of blur. A rush of wind. Who was it? Was it White Cloak? Was he back? For… for they-know-what? It wasn't possible. Could it? It wasn't necessarily impossible… but it wasn't much of a possibility either… wasn't it?

Then, walking down a long, respective hall, the blur came from behind him – he sensed it! Raikettei faded into nothingness in a second's notice, and the blur, finally caught up to where he was before, halted, froze his features. Raikettei came back, slammed the blur and smacked him on the head, forced him to the next wall. The body fell to the wall with a clatter, and Raikettei put his fingers to the person's heart. "You're dead," he declared. A burst of electricity emitted from his wrist. The person was short, was clothed in yellow and black, young – someone _not_ White Cloak. Raikettei widened his eyes. He brought his threatening hand back to his side. He laughed, nervously at first. "No way…" he spoke, sounding the last few syllables with a long monotony. "Rick-san!" he cried out.

"Raikettei… you were hurting me," he said in a choked voice, the blonde boy taking deep breaths from the dispersing suffocation. He wiped his mouth, his chest. He swallowed – hard, as if to check for his soul, his presence of life, to see if he was alive.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized nervously. The two stood, looking at each other, watching each other, as if both were strangers from another planet, another time. This could've gone on forever. But Raikettei's tension from the long night broke it, fortunately. "Things have been getting a little paranoid lately around here," Raikettei explained.

"Oh?" Rick asked, interest piqued. "Why? What happened?"

"Well, it's…" Raikettei let himself trail off. He looked to the young boy's face that seemed so innocent, so child-like, that if you just saw his face, you wouldn't believe he was a teenager at all. Those innocent, broad eyes fooled you every time. He gulped hard; he didn't know if he could tell him. No, he decided. Not just yet. He'll tell them along with the other Minors. It's better that way. It'll look like he's playing favorites if he told him now. "Nothing; it's nothing," Raikettei said. He backed away from the boy and began to walk again. The Minor followed, like a little, helpless baby. "You're not too sneaky, Rick," Raikettei changed the subject. "If you want to get better, learn from Derek."

Rick scowled, as if angry, and sighed. Together, they ventured on towards the darkness, the broken halls that were eroded by darkness, yet still useable, still capable of guiding them all the way through life, through the deaths to occur and the saviors to experience. The only savior anyone knew at this moment was one person and one person only – Eric. One just had to wonder how he was doing; just how was this eighteen year old boy, one of the oldest Minors, doing? He sure proved his worth in battle, and as a person. What else was there? What else?


	106. Chapter 106

The dark remained still, blackish layers among layers surrounding them, suffocating them. Kumoyama Rick stood, as if isolated, fingers winding and unwinding themselves in an everlasting infinity of bind, needless gulps immobile upon his throat. He watched the figure of his Council Half, slowly fade away into the darkness, dive deep into the unknown, who felt no fear – no anxiety from the unknown; he barely knew he was venturing to the darkest depths of the world. It sure seemed like it. The clicks of his footsteps muted in the darkness, vibrations eaten, eroded and abraded by the immobile stones of black. They shot away with a die of rocks, played with, gambled with, taken away.

"Where are you going?" Rick asked, curious; he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be the only one there, as if waiting, waiting in the darkness for something even he didn't know about – something he dreaded, something he didn't want to see, hear of again. Raikettei stopped. The boy forced more words from his hot, tense lips. "Everything seems out of balance lately…" he let himself trail away. Raikettei coughed, as if hiding laughter, hiding his own personal humor that no one else could just get.

"Maybe…" Raikettei said without turning. He stuffed his hands nervously, coolly into his pockets so they wouldn't be exposed, so they wouldn't be vulnerable, but instead, warm, soft, protected. "Or is it just you, I wonder?" the council piqued. Rick blinked; once, twice. "Rick," Raikettei cleared his throat once more. Hearing his name, it seemed meaningless, that one syllable thoughtless, having no relevance, no importance to the world. The blonde stared into space, as if caught in an insomniac hypnotism, vermillion yellow eyes deeply fried into a baked, innocent perfection. "What's wrong?" Raikettei asked. Neither moved; silence was alive at the moment, a long moment it was.

Rick managed to slowly, difficultly, blink. Once, twice, three times. He seemed all right now. His voice was returned and his consciousness sunk back in from the lingering, absent clouds. He cleared his throat, quickly, swiftly, trying to make a save. "I-uh…" he stalled for a moment. His eyes wandered to their frail corners. He swallowed, swallowed for thought, a deposit, a bribe. Soon his answer came. "What do you mean?" he managed to say, seconds off from the perfect save. Still, relief washed over him and liberated him from his pressured encasement.

"I mean," Raikettei began to speak, eagerly, gently. His voice was strong, manly, like always. How did these two personalities seem to pair up with the Lightning Element, one could wonder for hours and not find the answer. Maybe their personalities weren't the same; maybe… just maybe, it wasn't their personalities, their features that made them alike. Maybe it was a connection. Maybe. "There's obviously something wrong with you," he clearly stated. Rick seemed surprised. How would he know, so fast? "Tell me what," Raikettei almost demanded. Rick looked down in uncertainty, frowning crookedly, dementedly in distortion, eyes glinting like worrisome beads of a coy necklace, unsure, unknowing. "Oh, come on," Raikettei scoffed, amusingly. "You can trust me," he spoke friendlily. "Tell me what's going on with you."

"It's nothing," Rick quickly answered, blatant disbelief in his voice. "I'm all right." Even he didn't believe his own words. Once again, his stare returned to the ground. Cragged smile made a comeback.

"Is that so?" Raikettei said, not giving up on him just yet. He began to threaten the boy's patience, for his had all ready been threatened far too long, and such a level could not be tolerated any longer. Otherwise, you'd be the most tolerant person in the world, a lucky one at that, too. However, people would claim you as a pushover. In any case, Raikettei began to take a very noticeable step forward, as if on purpose. His shoe clicked the ground, clanked against it, so Rick could hear, so that he picked up his head, stared with unsure eyes, indecisive. A hard swallow came from the teenager. Raikettei took another step away, and another, until the step became a steady pace. He could feel Rick's muscles tense and contract from feet away. He could feel his golden eyes on him, that vermillion gaze never-ending, just waiting to be pried off, for it was the only way it could release.

"It's just…" Rick began to speak. Raikettei stopped. In the shadows, he smiled, knowing his trick had worked. Success, he reigned in his mind. A small grin couldn't help but leak out from the containment. "After watching Eric's fight, I realized just how strong he is; I wonder why, but I can't find out. What's the meaning behind his power?" Rick piqued. Raikettei gently sighed, smoothly exhaled, yet at the same time, sharply. "Just what is the meaning of it? Or even power in general? What?" Now that Rick had begun talking, it seemed as if he couldn't stop, like he was afraid to start, but when he got that motor running, it ran for hours, as if on a miracle, that if he wouldn't be stopped by someone else, he would go on like Hanukah.

"Idiot," Raikettei muttered, loudly. Rick seemed shocked, hurt. His facial expression became dazzled once again. Raikettei was just playing, yet Rick didn't know that. "Didn't Eric explain that all ready? Think about it." Long, deep silence. It was thorough, like a sleuth search, an intervention that would take no chances, not even the slightest, thinnest sliver of risk. Rick looked down, deep in thought, mind processing upon thousands and thousands of syllables of the anagram conveyor belt that spewed out thoughts every millisecond, none of them the correct one. "Don't stress too much about it, now. Life is not meant for stalling," Raikettei informed. Rick stopped, obeyed like a dog. He looked up, and stared at Raikettei's never-to-turn back. He exhaled sharply, said nothing. "Let's go," Raikettei insisted. Once again, his footsteps began, downward towards the not yet ventured land of darkness, undiscovered seas of mystery, strongest enigmas in every current. One could wonder if Rick could handle it.

"Go? Go where?" Rick asked, voice full with innocence, mature, yet childlike innocence. One more mindless, subconscious blink. Two more. Three more.

Raikettei took another step, stopped, once again. "To Eric. I have a job to get to," he explained, resuming his footsteps down the hall. He was soon distant away; Rick forced himself to follow, so that once again he would not become isolated and alone. He would not let himself become confined into the labyrinth of dimension.

"A job?" Rick piqued. One eyebrow rose with its nervous perspiration as the four sets of clicks on the ground beat at each other in a soundless tune, a music of no words, only syllables.

"It's… complicated," the council answered. "You'll understand later. For now, just come," he spoke rather quickly, tensely. His voice tightened up, cracked a bit, noticeably, too. Rick noticed immediately, smiled at his own gambit now. However, at the same time, he stopped, as if he couldn't think and walk at the same time. Raikettei began to get farther and farther away from him, without him noticing. "What's wrong?" Raikettei asked, rather tensely, clearer this time. "Didn't I tell you, life is not meant for stalling?"

Once again came Rick's set of blinks. "Yes!" he choked out, having just plunged out of his trance. Quickly, Rick gathered his thoughts and himself, as well, and ran to Raikettei until he was just behind his back, inches away.

PoVS

The low, mechanical beeping went on. "Oh, I guess I should put these down," Marissa said, holding that glimmering vase of glass in her hand. She walked over with scraping steps next to Eric's bed, placed the thin, curvy tube down. It seemed perfect, beautiful, carrying these bountiful flowers of spring blue and autumn white, and both the glass and the thin plants complimented each other respectively, mutually. The glass sparkled with its thin, distorted to perfection panes while the thin, sparse stems seemed to tickle the water, nick at its bottom and drink it with green lips as small and long as a straw. Softly, her hands lifted from them, as if it was hard to let them go, to release them from her fingertips.

"Isis flowers?" Teresa asked, blinking her violet perfect eyes. She held herself in her own arms, the coldness of the late night beginning to seep into her as well as the whole room. It was a threat to all.

"Yeah," Marissa validated. "They say it's the flower of hope. I got them on behalf of all the Minors. A lot of them suggest I get them; I'm lucky to find them in a place like this. It's almost nothing but grass trees, sun, moon and wind."

"I see," Teresa replied, halfheartedly. She seemed amazed, and Marissa's act of kindness made her smile, made her realize that her relation with this girl was important – it was one of the few female ones, after all. You had to savor those especially, if it came down to it. "You're amazing, Marissa-chan," she whispered, almost mindlessly, yet usefully. Marissa turned her head, looked at Teresa. She blinked in thought, as what Teresa had just said were a bunch of crazy, mutated words. Both sides seemed in a dazzle right now, confused beyond belief, with a touch of awkwardness.

"Oh; it's nothing," she replied in tardy, taking her graceful fingers to brush her hair behind her ears. She cleared her throat, as if tensely, sharply. She kept her eyes away from her, and ended her words with a few nervous syllables, a blunt ending. Teresa had to wonder if she had done something wrong – was there something weird in that sentence she had said?

Inside, she sneered. Getting used to actually _trying _to be friendly for once was hard. After such a long time practicing not making any relations, it was like Teresa had forgotten how to. No matter, she thought to herself. They'd just come along to her even if she didn't try. This was true, and she knew that. Then, something caught the group of teens' eyes. A stirring of some sort, that's what it was, from something they didn't expect to move.

Eric. It was Eric who moved, stirred in his bead, somehow moving despite the pain he had to deal with from the battle, the wounds and pounding of his body. His head shook, his arms moved, moved to his chest to feel for his body, feel if he was alive. His eyes blinked themselves open as consciousness began to sink back into his mind. The mechanism around him beeped, beeped as if it wanted him to return to sleep, to rest, to act dead. "Eric-kun!" people said, surprised, being careful to not become too loud, too uproarious, for that wound disturb his rest, his stable balance of mind right now that was extra-fragile. All eyes on him now, people could feel his steady inhales and exhales of breath, feel his warmth of skin even from a distance away. They smiled, happy, glad.

"Don't try to move around too much," Teresa warned, calmly. Eric's attention was all on her. "You're still healing." He tried to sit up, but decided he couldn't, and slipped back down. He breathed sharply, loudly, as if he hadn't taken a breath in months, years, or ever in his life. He blinked. He glared, once at Derek, once at Marissa, then once at Teresa.

"I'm alive…?" He looked around him, heard the beeping of life, the beeping that proved his worth, his existence. Inside he smiled. He looked around him, his surroundings, as if searching for something with friendly, innocent eyes, ones of gratitude and tranquility. His bandanna was ruffled, messy; people had been too worrisome to disturb him to fix it.

"Yeah," Derek answered, quickly, friendlily. He smiled coolly. Eric's eyes brought themselves upon him, and Derek respected him, talked to him with grace. "You're lucky too, big guy," he fooled around with him, amused. Derek smiled, gratefully. "You should be fine by morning. Don't try anything that's too hard for you to do. Troubling your body will just make it worse," he instructed. Marissa laughed, feeling as if she had to, showing signs that she was of relief liberated. But Teresa was worried. She was worried about the lengths Eric would go to just to prove his purpose – his worth. For god's sake, he almost died out there! Would she have to believe in him? Or no? Would she just not be able to do it?

"Good luck making him follow that," Teresa stepped up. She decided she couldn't let herself sop. Eric would know, and he would ask why, if not all ready. She smiled, knowing the fact that he would've asked if he had seen her troubled. He really cared that much, huh? It was amazing – to her, at least. Amazing beyond belief.

"You guys…" Eric began to speak softly, voice raspy, fixing itself as the lips formed more words, and as the tongue rolled on continuously, endlessly. "What're you doing here?" he said. Some would have taken that last statement the wrong way. However, these three Minors who watched over him knew what exactly he meant. He meant the innocent one – not the ungrateful one. It was amazing – how much they knew about him in a short time. As if things about him weren't amazing enough, such a thing like this had to come along. Derek cleared his throat, as if nervous, or just wanting to break the growing silence.

"Oh, now do you really believe we wouldn't give a bother about you after what you put yourself through?" Teresa said, half lying. She couldn't help but be worried about him, but she was sure that her feelings would change later on. As soon as possible, too.

"I see," Eric said, smiling, ever so slightly. "Well, then… I'm glad." So were the others.

As if on cue, a loud screaming came from the halls. A disruptive distortion of sound echoed from the halls, beyond the door, sounding like some juvenile child not wanting to go to prison, but forced to under many conditions, many unforgivable conditions. "All right!" a teenager's voice sounded uproariously through the dimension beyond the door. All eyes looked to the closed threshold, watching it, as if it were the one speaking, shouting, talking. Many gulped.

"What the hell?" Derek said, annoyed. He thought he recognized that voice. Please, the spiky, black haired boy thought. Please, don't let it be him… Please tell me he's not coming in here. The seventeen year old sighed, knowing that it was inevitable no matter how much he sighed, no matter how much he wished it away and no matter how much he didn't want it to happen. Others just looked confused, but that all wore off when suddenly –

The door burst open. It landed with a huge, enormous clatter of noise. Explosions of hyper parade energy and vibe flowed in from the threshold as a boy – a Minor came into the room, screaming, shouting, shouting enough to be his own thanksgiving parade. His intense face was humorous, idiotic to say the least, and Derek, expecting him, shook his head, comically, depressively. Dark blue lines and aura came down on the top of his head. His eyes squinted to a bothersome set of lines and his shoulders slouched, his back no longer straight. Zack, standing at the door continued to shout. "Okay!!" he screamed.

"Zack-kun?" Marissa cried out in shock.

"That – was – an – awesome- fight!" Zack said each word separately, as if he had been talking to, well actually, screaming to a deaf person. Zack began to slowly punch the air, eyes burning comically with a fake fire, teeth becoming square as well as lips, exaggerated features becoming more hilarious by the second. "Hell yeah!!!" he continued to shout. No one replied to him; everyone just stared, watching him as if he were a circus freak – everyone but Eric. He just listened, grunted annoyingly yet amused at Zack's idiocy. It was even funnier when Zack didn't know he was being an idiot. "First, Hibiyomi was like 'ugh! Show no emotion." Zack made a funny, distorted face feature, head growing ten times as large for norm. "Then, and then, Eric was all POW! POW! POW!" Zack punched the air continuously, boxing it with enormous face structure. His eyes burned with amusing flames.

People blinked, not knowing what to think of this sudden outburst. Once they blinked. Twice. They stared while this – this boy continued on with his rant of appreciation, like Eric and Hibiyomi' fight was a sports event and he was the whole crowd right after, constantly moving, constantly gesturing, anon-stop talking and shouting and excited screams braying from his throat like an abnormality in his voice. "Then, he was like, 'I have a purpose' and then his fire goes like, like, WHOOOOOOOOSH!" Zack gestured with jazz fingers, bursting his arms into the air like throwing his graduation cap. Who let such an idiot graduate?

Derek groaned. "Shut up!" he demanded in an annoyed groan, downing his fist into Zack's head. A comical clatter sounded through the room. "You're annoying; shut up!" His eyebrows twitched. Zack stopped moving; the noise stopped along with him.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?!" Zack demanded, picking up his head and rubbing the back of it, eyes sad like a child about to cry. He pouted, as if hoping it were to be cute. Newsflash: when seventeen year old boys pout, it's not cute.

"Shut up, idiot!" Derek snapped, angrily. He crossed his arms in front of him. "You're disturbing Eric's sleep, and our comfort!"

"That hurt, idiot!" Zack shot back. Their faces grew closer.

"It was supposed to, idiot!" Derek insulted back.

"You're screaming like hell!" Zack yelled all over Derek's face, nearing his nose. The argument created more noise, more sound through the room; and Derek didn't even realize it. Marissa and Teresa covered their ears with reflective palms, squinted their eyes as if that would help. Marissa had to worry about the glass of flowers – the hopeful vase of Isis.

"I'm not the one who started screaming, idiot!" Derek screamed with his deep, loud voice into Zack's face. Decibels began to crack, one could swear on it.

"Guys, calm down," Teresa insisted, bringing her hands back to her side. She stared at them as they continued their indistinctive yelling, their constant fighting and shaking of fists, their amusing rivalry. They're going to kill Eric's tranquility, she thought. She gulped, and looked to him, to see how he was doing. What she saw changed her belief. He was looking at them fight, looking at the scowl with his head turned on the pillow, barely catching them in his eyes, and he – he smiled. A small, respective grin it was, one of appreciated and amusement. Teresa released her stressed muscles at this, and decided, hey, if he was happy, then she was happy. She exhaled, and smiled with him.

Eric looked to the ceiling, and exhaled, as if tired. Derek and Zack continued to shout, scream at each other, ridicule each other with pointless comments and insults. Mockery was the only thing that was heard for miles. It was a long, long night. And they had absolutely no idea how much longer it would become.


	107. Chapter 107

Derek and Zack continued with there nonsense bickering, their internal and external insults ranging from harmless to meteor shower. They sprinkled ineffective mockery over one another, loudly filling the room, the halls, the dimension with their, on some level mutual, ridicule. They spat in each others face, sneered and snapped, filled the late night with words that just put you into the blue. Outside, the moon began to shatter in its glassy, fragile light. Uproar, uproar and more uproar unorganized itself into invisible folder in folder, the delirium making of reality of untidy distortion, mountains of yellow file bore. A whack on the head did Zack some good.

But this time, it wasn't Derek who did it. It was someone else. A new presence that entered the room, who, just by being there, but an end to the non-stop violence of words, syllable abuse. It expulsed the intrusive chaos, and replaced it with a tranquil harmony, a melody of soft, whispering tone. The only thing that could be heard now was oxygen, as well as the low, innocent beeping of the zigzag heart monitor. "Zack, you're too loud!" Raikettei demanded loudly. The Lightning Council scowled, ears throbbing, pounding with fleshy pink and red.

"What!" Zack cried out, as if claiming it were not his fault. Beside him, Derek took a deep breath for comfort, exhaled sharply. Many in the room gave their applause as Zack rubbed the back of his head, easing the pain and throbbing skull.

"Raikettei-sama!" Teresa cried out. "You're here!" she spoke with great pleasure. She smiled, her clean set of teeth shy and unnoticed, coy and coiled in its sandwiched position of two, graceful lips.

"Yeah," the council cleared his throat. Someone followed him in. A dark figure suspended in the silhouettes of walled shadow. Out came the shadow. In came Kumoyama Rick. He blinked, and looked to each Minor. Marissa seemed to take notice of him first.

"Rick!" she called out to him, as if surprised to see him. They smiled at each other nervously. Then they wondered why the other one was where they were.

"I need you guys to come with me," Raikettei began to inform. All eyes went to him, all ears twitching, opening up with their peachy distortions. "There's something I need to tell you guys," the council continued to explain. The few Minors in the room traded confused, pondering looks, as if waiting for each other, asking each other what the council meant. Only Raikettei knew, no eyes they looked into bared the answer in their projected innocence.

"What is it?" Marissa asked, curious, much too curious for her own comfort. She took a step closer, and a step farther from the nightstand that held the Isis flowers in the starry vase.

"Not here!" Raikettei denied. He talked with certain anxiety, certain panic. "I'll tell you when the other Minors are present. Let's go," he declared, stepping out the room for a second, taking one click of a shoe. Many seemed to hesitate, not follow.

"Wait," Marissa begged. "What about Eric-san?" she piqued. Raikettei stopped, right in the middle of his exit. He sighed, turning to the boy who lay in the bed, weak from his last battle, his last amazing battle. Raikettei smiled at him as he caught Eric's glance, making him nervous with tension. Inside his mind, he seemed to comprehend on what the decision would be for the case of Eric, even though he all ready knew the answer. He didn't know why, but it was like Raikettei didn't want to accept the truth. No one ever did, really.

Sighing once more, Raikettei told himself that he couldn't stall any longer. The Minors were waiting for a reply, and he was sure that the Council was getting rather impatient by now. Shintenmaru especially. He was the worst. "Sorry, Eric," Raikettei said, staying in his place, not bothering to come closer to the boy. He seemed in such a hurry, it was amazing. "You've played too much today," he joked. "You need to sleep."

"Don't worry, Eric," Teresa walked up to him. The brown-haired boy looked up to her with boyish eyes that made her ever so lifted; not quite happy, but she definitely wasn't sad when she saw them. "We'll be fine; you contributed enough today." The darkness of the room seemed to lighten up, lift upward away from them as if a web silently, sneakily being pulled away from the presence of others, unnoticed and slippery.

"Let's go," Raikettei repeated himself, turning back around to face the dark halls before him. He cleared his throat, his hands still nervously stuffed into his pockets, still warm and comforting themselves, for they would feel incomplete if they hadn't been – they'd be left alone, isolated. Raikettei walked out the door, followed by Rick. Zack obediently followed. Derek soon came with a sigh, surrounded in his own blanket of complete indifference, huddling his arms together in an x formation, as if holding himself for warmth, for it was a numbing temperature that filled the interior cold. Marissa and Teresa seemed to hesitate, taking slow steps toward the door, now and then looking to Eric just to check up on him.

"Don't be the first one to wither away, either, Eric," Marissa said, walking back to the flower vase. She pricked one of the petals with her soft, delicate finger. She brushed the soft, silkiness against her, and picked it off, easily, gently, as if an angels holy touch. She brought it to Eric's hand, lightly placed it like a feather, fragile, as if his hand would break off. She smiled, and closed his hand around it, making sure he wouldn't let go for him. He said nothing, as by now, he was half-conscious, ready to fall back into sleep. Marissa ran out, suddenly as if in a hurry.

Teresa was alone left. She couldn't stop staring at him, couldn't stop. "Eric, I just wanted to say…" she let herself trail off, as if she were unsure of whether or not he was listening. It was true, and while she waited, the darkness eroded the walls, the corners for her, as if telling her that time was running out; she could not stall for much longer. There was something about her, though, something about her that told her she didn't want to go. She didn't want to find out what Raikettei had to tell the Minors because for some reason, she'd thought she'd be better off not knowing- happier. A light blink came from Eric, told her she wasn't alone. She was relieved.

"What is it, Teresa?" Eric said, knowing that she had been so unsure, uncertain. He spoke as if he were amused, and couldn't help but force a tiny, small grin in his half-consciousness. His body did not move, for it seemed that it couldn't, it seemed that it was too damaged to do so. Only his face, his eyes and mouth and nose twitched, moved for him. He exhaled sharply, his chest falling. "Are you still sopping over your relations just like before… when we talked?"

Teresa seemed shocked, not quite hurt, but shocked. "No," she answered quickly, loudly, a change of tone. Eric realized this, and smiled, chuckled to himself lightly, coolly. "I've gotten over it a long time ago. I just wanted to tell you… thank you," she nodded, gulped from anxiety. How would he react? What would he say? "Goodbye," she headed for the door, quickly, swiftly with long, striding steps. Now she couldn't wait to exit, couldn't wait to release herself from her panic.

"No problem," Eric whispered back just in time to catch her ear as the door shut behind Teresa, who closed it with a soft touch of delicacy. Outside, Teresa listened, listened for the last traces before she shut the door and exited the threshold of the entrance. The door was now shut. She waited, stalled, as if there were something to be there for, something to rendezvous with. Nothing came, yet she didn't expect anything, or anyone. She just stood there, closely placing her side of her head towards the door, listening to soft breathing of Eric – of his life. Then, smiling, as if it were for reassurance, she rushed off, into the dark and unknown, something she was no longer afraid of, too, thanks to Eric.

Minutes later, after many syllables sounded out and many sentences released, a rush of emotion came over the Minors and into the widely large room. "What!?" Derek cried out, pounding his hand against the table with no one seated in it. The table shook with certain fear, as if feeling pain for the first time in its life, and shuddering extra hard to indicate that it no longer wanted to feel it, no longer wanted to experience it. Experience was bad for this surface of wood. Derek strained his face, difficultly. His teeth began to grind against each other without noticing, his eyes twitching in certain anger. "White Cloak came back!?" he shouted with anguish in his voice, trying to keep himself from going hysterical, for this was not his personality.

"Calm down, Derek," Hanabikai demanded. "There's no use in getting angry," he informed telling the truth .Derek knew that all ready. But he couldn't help but be mad. Not after what he saw – not after what he went through with White Cloak that day. The simple thought of it still gave him the shivers, still sent shocks down his spine like electrical wires constantly flowing, nonstop hurting, sparking him every now and then from the back of his mind like an unexpected attack. And he hated it. He despised it! He would continue to spit it out as if he hated his own saliva again and again and it would always return, always return when he was least aware of it.

Damn it, that guy, Derek growled to himself inside his mind. He picked up his hand, deciding it was no use to take out his anger on things. He sighed for relief, for his own benefit, as if the air was calming. At some level, it was, and he meditated for seconds, making sure not to take too long. He remembered that moment once again – that moment that seemed to scar his memory for life, strike at his recollection with a bolt of anguished thoughts.

He remembered the brewing; the brewing of energy sent through the air and filled White Cloak to the prime brim. He remembered the cold, frosty numbness of Hanayuki, the flurries of white stars from the clouds, millions of pure wishes plummeting slowly, reluctantly to their doom in a slow zigzag path. It had been a game – yes a game. A game of lottery and chance, a gamble to see which one of the billions – trillions of wishes around the world would be left, and granted. Each tiny speck of white snow was a great, motivated wish, and just seeing it would mean that it was indeed – denied. Which wish would be the last one standing? Which one would be granted and become a miracle of life? Certainly not the most important one, for life had better plans for destiny, for fate, no matter how much we hated it, and went against it. Humans were not the best choice-makers, nothing makes them that way.

Derek remembered the cold, white feet of White Cloak tainting the floor with impure steps, a deviant thought an intention with every one and every breath. They paced themselves on the pale, hospital floors with the cold wind bristling inward like a short brush of blizzard. He remembered when the doctor got in the way, and White Cloak ended up drawing his powers – to get him out of the way. He remembered the limp body and arms and legs and hopeful dreams slowly fade and diminish into nothing but a pile of ashes, slowly blown away into people's faces before his very eyes. He watched them dwindle; dwindle with lifeless thoughts, lifeless being and words, immobile lips for the rest of time, indicating that his sands of time had run out. It had been time. But did it have to be? No, it didn't. That's what Derek believed. It was White Cloak's fault. And he hated him for that. Someone who tried to protect him- had to die so easily. So simply! It was agitating.

And Derek remembered just lying there, watching the death before him, watching White Cloak just inches away. Inches, it was! And he did nothing but watch. Nothing at all. He could do nothing – what could he do against someone like him!? What? Absolutely nothing, that's what. He just stared, wide-eyed somehow believing that the doctor really wasn't going to die, for his life wasn't meant to be like this – or so he thought. No death has ever occurred before his very eyes. No violence. Nothing out of the blue, green, mystery. But that all changed when he became a Minor. That is how it is from now on. And he had to admit, he hadn't gotten quite used to it.

Now, Derek stood, eyes upon his feet, thinking of himself, of what he could do different. Next to him, his fists clenched tightly, grudgingly. He swallowed hard, swallowed his emotions for they were of no use to him right now. No, not right now. He washed them away, just like his parents had taught him. Yes, Eric had proved just before that doing this wasn't power, but it was still useful in its own different ways. One had to admit that.

"Derek, I've never seen you so mad," Lance muttered to the black-haired boy, whose fists still trembled unsightly. Derek didn't answer. Shintenmaru cleared his throat, nervously.

"That guy…" Derek muttered under his breath, meanly, coldly, crossly. "He took the life of someone who protected me so mindlessly… so uselessly… I hate him." His upset emotions were easily to understand and comprehend. One had to agree with him. All looked solemn for this moment and this moment only, just for the Minors, just for Derek. Getting used to the change of life from normal person to Minor wasn't easy, yet all had to deal with it. They couldn't give up their job to someone else – it was impossible, and unruly.

"That's not all," Shintenmaru cleared his throat. Derek looked up, flashed a confused look. All Minors did the same, or just about the same, at least. "White Cloak's injured a backup."

"Backup?" Teresa asked without thinking before anyone else. "What's that?" she asked on behalf of the Minors, who had no idea what that was at all, either.

"The backups are the twelve engines that share our individual powers that we created to hold the dimension in place. If they are injured, the respective element goes wild – just like Tsukansu did," Shintenmaru explained. All eyes suddenly went to search for Tsukansu. They found him, tired and weak, robe sleeves ruffled and mixed up, torn off. He sat down on a wooden chair, tired and limp, with Hyoumaru watching over his shoulder, just in case so he could tend to his needs – or wants. "Naturally, Walter would be affected as well, but since it was only a small wound, Walter was most likely unaffected." Dylan looked to Walter, stared at him. A cold, cross glare shot at him back, piercingly. Dylan seemed to tense up in shock, and quickly turned back around, returning his stare. He gulped nervously. There was something about that guy that scared him to heck, being how Dylan was so easy-going and happy all the time; it was natural.

Shintenmaru sighed, and continued, muscles tensing up. He picked his glasses up and brought them closer to his face from nervous habit. "In any case, White Cloak is still in this dimension," he explained. Shintenmaru seemed to be the only one explaining at the moment. Other councils just watched, making sure that what he said was indeed correct, as if they didn't trust him one bit so they needed ten people to watch over that one council – Hibiyomi was still resting. "We have to get him out of here, or just get rid of him completely."

"So now what?" Marissa asked, rather tensely, quickly, voice cracking up uneasily.

"We have to et him out ourselves," Tsukansu began to speak for Shintenmaru, taking over the explanations. "You guys have to stay here and remain safe since this is White Cloak we're dealing with. We should get going immediately." As if that were the concluding statement, all councils began to stir and move, energy rates going out of balance and harmony, everything going distorted and twisted and wrong, spiraling out of control! The Minors seemed different about this idea, faces quivering in disdain.

"No," Derek spoke first. The councils stopped. They all looked to the black-haired boy, who seemed nothing but serious, fists finally unclenched, loose.

"What?" Shintenmaru asked, strictly, directly.

"No," Derek repeated himself, a little louder this time, just the way he meant it. The Minors were tense and nervous about how he started off their argument. They seemed unsure and pouring with uncertainty. The councils, expecting something denied in the system worried, prepared themselves. His voice was calm, not too fast and not too slow. Just in the right place put in the right execution. "Let me – us go get White Cloak. I want to stop him myself – I want to get back at him."

"Derek," Raikettei interrupted. The bald-headed council stepped up and faced the boy, who stared straight into his eyes back, just as coldly, just as crossly. "I don't think you understand the situation at hand here -"

Derek cut Raikettei off just in time, just in time to catch him off guard. "No, I do!" he argued. He raised his voice, louder, more out of control. Derek tried hard to keep himself contained, scowling at the councils and growling low under his breath to calm himself, clenching his fists tightly in fume. "We proved twice all ready that we can be as powerful as you guys, didn't we?" Derek stated loud and clear. "I want to go!" he repeated.

"I want to go as well," Mark stepped up, sighing.

"Me too," Rick came forward. Then, suddenly, all Minors began wanting to go, shouting, pleading, begging, protesting for their chance, their right to help the council in the best way possible. The Council, apprehended by the powerful argument and overtaking of words, found themselves speechless.

"Enough!" Shintenmaru shouted, putting a demised end to the shouting and protesting. Everyone stopped, everyone was silenced. They all brought their eyes to the redheaded council, who soon began to speak. "Don't you guys get it!? We cannot allow you to go! We can't risk your lives!"

'Come on!" Teresa had to fight for her rights too. "This will give us a chance to put our training to use." All the Minors agreed, shouting confidently, grunting in the same ways at different times, random intervals.

"But-" Shintenmaru was cut off.

"Shintenmaru!" Shihou came up close to the redhead and began to whisper into his ear, cupping her voice silently, secretly. Slowly her words formed themselves delicately and angelically between her lips, graceful exits. "Don't be so insecure. They can take care of themselves, eh?" Shintenmaru had to agree. He gulped, nervously. Knowing nothing but the expression on Shintenmaru's face, the Minors began to cheer, and still, many leaned it, watching closely, coming in closer and closer and closer. Shihou continued to speak. "Also, if we let them go, it'd give us a perfect chance to watch over Jeremy and retrieve _their_ help." Shintenmaru sighed.

Seconds passed. Half a minute of thinking. Shintenmaru suddenly sighed, and began to speak, an answer to the Minors' hopes. "Fine," he spoke with a blink. "I'll show you which way to go," he finally accepted, somewhat caught up in indifference and hoping that no one would mention the fact of his own incorrectness. He began to walk to the nearby table, and began to get to work. The Minors cheered. Now this was the time where the night would become longer and longer and longer. This is when it all began.


	108. Chapter 108

Shintenmaru walked, tensely, heavy-heartedly as he took his stance over the low, wooden table. Its clean surface was yet moldy with time, greasy with its positive relationship with the blackened hands of the clock. Its massive amount of whorls varying from all sizes decorated themselves upon the table, woody light brown whirling in their own contour lines, darkened with hate, spewing outward like a flood. He brought his hot hand and coy, tense fingers to his robe pockets, scrambling themselves in a web of peach confusion. They tangled within themselves as they removed a tiny, rolled up scroll from the pocket, and began to unwrap it, release it.

"Here," he muttered with the blatant death of darkness around him, its imminence of death creeping closer and closer, eroded by the light of no source. Shintenmaru rolled out the map showing a cragged maze of thin, labyrinth halls and walls, along with a cragged structure of black shadow, empty solid. Many exits spewed at the sides, representing doors, an escape not easily found. A large room remained in the middle, with many other rooms connecting to the maze's walls. Shintenmaru gulped, as if nervous, unsure of whether or not to show the Minors this map. Shitnenmaru pointed to keep himself from stalling as the Minors leaned in closer, and looked past his shoulder, now surrounding him into a tiny little corner of people, of souls destined for something greater.

A crusty finger skimmed itself over the map, playing with the soft, worn fabric of its immortal years. These same hands touched them at least a hundred years ago, a whole century, and it began to wonder why, why was its own good not passed to another generation? Why did these same, crispy, cooked fingers trace around it softly, gently, immortally? Why had they not deceased like the world had destined everyone else in the world, everyone else's fate when it came down to it? Eyes of the Minors watched and looked for characters on the map, anything to tell them how to read it. Nothing. Only the Council knew how to read the map, for it was written in a secret code, a code only they could see; only they could comprehend from their own memory and seal the fate of the explanation.

Shintenmaru cleared his throat, and finally began to explain; he had kept everyone waiting more than enough. "This is where White Cloak was," Shitnenmaru spoke with a jagged voice, running his anxious finger to the top of the map, and to a certain hall with nothing but L-like structures. It had been the hall Walter had been. Just touching that place on the map make Shintenmaru tense, his face still covered half in stone. The Minors wondered what was wrong with him, but being that he had the personality he held, they decided not to, and stayed out of trouble. It shook Shintenmaru's spirits in fact, just feeling the place on the map, _breathing _its air. It seemed cold, gave off a bad vibe that was purposely made to induce fear. Shintenmaru swallowed difficultly, the giant gulp no use to his sore throat. He forced himself to continue on. Memories of White Cloak would not help the situation, for he knew one thing and one thing only during his childhood: When you had a problem, you don't think about it and what happened in the past. You go ahead, and you fix it, fix whatever's wrong, because thinking about how bad it is will get you nowhere to solving it.

"The fastest way outside from where he left," Shintenmaru skimmed his dark, indecisive colored eyes over the gray, moldy map. He traced his fingers down a certain hall and to an exit that lead outside. "Would be here. We know for sure that he left this part of the dimension, since I would know if he were still here." Once again he cleared his throat for clarity. Once again he cleared his throat because of his anxiety. "Exiting this way, he couldn't have gone far. You guys will exit the same way and divide into four directions, a team per direction, sprouting outward." He paused to make sure the Minors were following along, even though such a thing could not be known unless told. He just felt like stopping, like he had to, like if he had talked for more than a second more than he did, the whole world would've exploded. Strange. "Assembly of teams will be decided now."

He gave a final low cough and rolled up the scrolled map back into its bent, circular position, and stuffed it back into his robe. He turned around to find the Minors closer to him than he realized it to be, and backed up a bit, taken by surprise. Tensely, he went on, as if nothing were wrong, as if nothing happened. "However, I'll need a few of you to stay here with the Council – us, unless you want to give up on the job now." He hoped, oh how he hoped they would deny the job now, after hearing the plan. No, he realized. They looked even more excited, even more ready and prepared. He just worried too much, just like Shihou had told him. But he couldn't help it. This was who he was, even if he didn't act like it. "Well, then, Dylan, Lance; I need you guys to stay," he called out to them, searching for their faces lost in the eleven-people crowd. It was like a wall, a whole audience to search from; faces lost upon faces, piled upon each other like a deposited drumlin of sediments. Lance and Dylan looked at each other, weirdly. Concern washed over their faces like it was a competition to see who had the more worry. Their stare lasted long. Too long.

"These will be the teams," Shintenmaru began, planning everything on the spot. He scanned the crowd before him, searching out faces to put together like it was a game of mix and match, mostly match. His eyes searched and searched, hoping to win the grand prize. It was a gamble this game, but he had the smarts to overcome it. "Daniel, Kenneth makes one," Shintenmaru decided, continuing his eternal sleuthing of faces. He sniffed them out carefully with his dotting eyes, his nonstop shaking of limited mobility coming carefully over the audience watching him. If he and the rest of the Council would not be going, then he had to plan the teams of Minors carefully out himself. It was the only thing he could be sure of. Yes, carefully he scanned, slowly his words came from his unsure, indifferent lips. "Derek, Mark…" He looked for a last member, a member to take the third slot. Derek crossed his fingers, inside his mind. "…and Zack will be the second team," Shitnenmaru concluded. Derek's finger-crossing failed wishes, for it was no shooting star. He sighed, slouched his back in loss.

"Damn it," Derek said depressively, his arms sliding off their sockets. "Why do I always get stuck with him?" he growled.

Zack snickered happily, as if not noticing Derek's disfavor. "All right!" he cried ecstatically.

Shintenmaru went on to complete the rest of the teams: "The next team will be Marissa and Rick," he muttered. Now there were only two people left to choose. Among the mob, a smile of victory flashed, a happy, secure feeling washing over a blonde female's face. "The last team will be Teresa and Walter."

"Wait!" Dylan stopped right there, certain sadness in his tone for his name had not been called, like he had been voted out of the Minors for good. That was the feeling he had. Some paranoia this kid had, some paranoia. "Why do we have to stay?" he asked gently, delicately. "I don't think Lance-san wants to be left out either. What makes us so special?"

The Council exchanged looks intensely with each other, tying them in a secure bond, as if what they were about to stay would blow them apart, words explosive and pyrotechnic as soon as they were released from lips, burning with intense hellish flare. "We need you to help us with something just as important," Shintenmaru explained after counseling who should be the one to tell them, nervously. Why was Shintenmaru always the one being voted to do everything? So tedious, this was. Dylan and Lance looked at each other, looked to the other Minors, and then looked to Shintenmaru. Dylan blinked unsightly, dazzled in his own confusion he himself created for his own mind. "Anyway," Shintenmaru went on, being careful not to reveal too much for the other Minors could not hear any information about Lance and Dylan's task. "Do you guys know what to do? If you find White Cloak, try to chase him out. But be prepared for battle; he's not the one to give up and run away without a fight first, especially when he thinks he has the upper hand over you guys."

"Yes!" Rick said voluntarily. A look of confidence washed over him, spread over his features and gave him the appearance as if he were made purely of determination, the only thing that was spewed from his wounds, carried in his sickly veins, filing his eyes and mouth, his DNA. Marissa, at his side as if for security, was not so sure, and bit her bottom lip suspiciously, tensely. She was careful not to rip the skin apart. Her eyes crinkled in certain panic, her arms tightly wrapping each other, hugging each other as if they were cold, freezing, in fact.

"Get going, then," Shintenmaru rushed them off. The sooner the better so I can get rid of this anxiety, Shitnenmaru thought to himself, nervously picking up his glasses more towards his face. The rectangular lenses shaded themselves in a certain, unidentified white light. With that word, the Minors rushed, some determinatively, some unsurely. Their footsteps clicked the ground powerfully as their eleven presences rushed out of the room, eaten by the threshold of the halls, gone now, taking a whole chunk of the group in the room away, and bringing them elsewhere, somewhere more… relevant.

As their footsteps faded away into the outside part of the dimension a certain character listened into their conversation, body sprawled against the wall for support, sitting almost as comfortably as one should be in the dark, head turned towards the threshold of the door, watching for anyone, watching for any suspicion. A large, tanned hand clutched the side of this person's body, as if it were shooting with severe pain, severe anguish. A squinted set of eyes peered to their side. Kahibi Eric decided that there was no more to hear, and picked himself up from the floor, careful not to make even the slightest noise. He knew how skilled the councils were. He was not naïve. He wouldn't fall f0r their unseen tricks. He began to walk, slowly, with satisfaction back to his room with his bare feet that dragged noiselessly across the ground, unknowably. You really thought I'd listen to your advices, guys, and stay in my room and do nothing? Eric thought in his mind as he slowly paced himself towards the darkness, smiling at the recollection of the other Minors and councils. He strained himself, dragged him across the hall, but he would make it in time. He always did.

"Okay," Shintenmaru breathed out tensely, going to the next thing having to be accomplished. Only two things to finish speaking of next. "Who's going to go get -" His voice was cut short, just as he wished it. All councils knew what he was talking about almost immediately. He was glad, relieved, in fact.

"I'll go," Tsukansu volunteered. Everyone turned to the Water Council as if he had been invisible all this time. Many eyes, unsure watched him get up from his resting seat and lift himself up in preparation. His clothes were torn, tired, his hair not quite perfect like it always had been. He was flustered all over, but had gained a new confidence. "I haven't contributed in a while," Tsukansu explained.

"Will you be all right?" Shintenmaru asked, unsure of whether or not he should let Tsukansu go on such an important mission. Would he get hurt? Would he be a threat to the people outside of the Inner World? He didn't know. Only Tsukansu8 could decide that – with his own free will, of course. It wasn't like he couldn't control it… unless…

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tsukansu insisted, walking towards the next hall. He turned to the rest of the Council as his clicking footsteps ended their first set of newfound paces, searched them for any volunteers that would go with him. His handsome eyes sparkled with innocence, like nothing had happened to him, like nothing had happened at all. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago, just a few, bare minutes ago, he had been half-shark, half man. "I'll need five others, though," Tsukansu suggested.

"I'll go," Minoa quickly volunteered. She got up on her feet, confidently narrowing her eyes and readying her fists, as if she were to fight and blow up the whole dimension. Shitnenmaru had to differ.

"No, you stay," Shintenmaru instructed. Minoa turned her head towards Shitnenmaru, shocked, as if she had not expected a debate on whether or not she would go. "We need you just in case something goes wrong with Dylan and Lance."

"Wrong…?" Dylan whispered nervously with innocent, childlike eyes into Lance's ear. Lance smiled crookedly, somewhat nervously, with his hands stuffed eagerly into their respective pockets, as if hiding away into secretion, into concealment to secrete themselves. The Metal Minor shrugged back, said nothing, thought nothing. His eyes winced with no force, no tension, but happily, an eerie, cheery gesture of eyes painted on his face. It was rather weird, rather strange. Shoulders dropped back coolly, carelessly.

Minoa sat back down obediently, figuring that Shintenmaru was right. Dylan brought himself into this whole big worry, and raved at he suspense, ranted in protest inside his mind as to not disrupt any focuses, for he was much too generous like this, much too nice. What had made him like this? Only time would tell. Wouldn't it? "I'll go," Kakori insisted. "You guys don't need me here," he explained. Soon, four others volunteered. These four councils stepped to Tsukansu's place right before the hall to prepare themselves for an important mission that they had in mind. Kakori, Tsukansu, Hyoumaru, Madasora, Raikettei, and Kanadou comprised this team. With one last nod of respect, they headed off, each with their own powerful set of steps, each with their own purpose in mind, one individual to contact, maybe even two for some of them, or even three, in fact. They soon disappeared, silhouettes swerving into the darkness and into apparition dark.

The last chunk of councils left would have to take care of Dylan and Lance, and the two Minors stared at the councils left, nervously, tensely, for only most of the strong people were left. Just what did they want from them? Dylan worried about this more than Lance. It was obvious. Lance just looked casual, sloth-like, as always. "Where are they going?" Lance said curiously.

"Nothing," Shintenmaru snapped, rather quickly with the answer. "It doesn't involve you," he scorned. "Come; let's go get to our business." Lance opened his eyes, blinked once, suspiciously. He looked to Shihou, who was still there, but couldn't quite figure out what was the purpose of these two Minors' presences. Dylan and Lance exchanged careful, suspenseful looks. Both gulped – hard. The council began to head off into a separate hallway. The Minors, forcing their own footsteps, followed, somewhat reluctantly.

Minutes later, they still found themselves walking in an eternity, walking and walking and walking forever, as if there was no end to the hall, for they had been going straight for what seemed like miles. The two Minors trailed behind the group of councils left, for they were the only ones who knew were going on – it seemed as if the teens couldn't know anything until they got to their destination, which seemed to take much more than enough. Feet were beginning to tire, and wear out, erode by the cold, suffocating darkness. The orange walls painted themselves of a fake shade of dark, a shadow of corners creeping outward into a blatant silhouette, the tight walls seeming to close in with the sparseness of air. They might as well have been in a desert.

"Shintenmaru," Minoa picked up her speed to the redhead Council to speak with her. She caught his attention, whether he wanted to follow along or not. They kept their pace; the woman had to try hard to keep up. Shitnenmaru was always so fast, so swift when he was nervous. He may have been one of the smartest people in the world, but when it came to nervousness, he gave the most blatant, obvious excuses and signs of it in history. "I'm worried, concerned, in fact," Minoa spoke softly, gently, as if the words were hard to form from her educated, matured lips. They were pinkish, cushiony, too.

"Concerned?" Shintenmaru spoke, as if the word were new to him, his voice anxious and cracking, obvious. "What do you mean? What're you saying?" he scrambled out with no grace, no organization at all, spewing the unplaced syllables out from his mouth in a string of confusion, a mound of dazzle he found himself in, and his words.

"About Walter and his team," Minoa said, trying to calm Shintenmaru down with a scolding, hardcore voice. She narrowed her eyes, meanly, as if threateningly. Her voice became cross, yet still somewhat worrisome about her concern, the thing on her back that just wouldn't peel or pry off. "Will he be all right with just one teammate?" she asked with a voice so tense yet so strong that it snapped Shintenmaru out of his own confusion, out of his own anxiety and brought him back to reality, where he belonged. Shintenmaru listened carefully now, watching the edges of the halls dim with darkness as they went on inside the hallway of infini8ty that reeked of nothing but blatant air. "Maybe you should've made him in the only three man group like Derek, Zack, and Mark," Minoa insisted.

"No," Shintenmaru quickly disagreed, voice now calm and centered, found and organized, classified. "He's fine. He's got Teresa," he explained. "She's the strongest element and can defend. Also, I've got a good feeling they'll need an available spot in their group," he said with certain suspicion. Minoa raised a brow in her own secret curiosity. She widened her eyes, thinking up of something yet not quite sure that it was it. It couldn't be – could it? She thought carefully in her mind, and still, after a suitable amount of time waiting, could not come up with an answer.

"Don't worry about Walter," Dylan said with certain nervous happiness. He smiled widely, unnaturally. He brought his arms casually behind his head as he walked. His white hair tickled his forearms. "He's awesome. He can defend himself – he's really independent."

Shintenmaru stopped in his tracks at that word, and halted everyone else from moving. Everyone stared at his back, all tense and silent, solemn and serious, and Dylan began to wonder what was wrong, changing the look on his face from happy to vulnerable, suppressed joy. Shintenmaru turned his head and gave a hard look into Dylan's eye, making sure that the boy knew he was about to tell the truth. "That's exactly what we're worried about," he spoke calmly, as calmly could get. Dylan blinked, unable to comprehend what Shitnenmaru was saying, a certain mystery behind his words indeed.

Minutes later, they arrived at a large, godly door, the door of all doors, big and wide and tall and mystic all at the same time. Its borders were eerie with mold, with dark, orange plaster and wood, a mixture of the two if that were ever possible. It seemed so heavy yet so fragile, so strong and important – relevant just because of its size. Dylan gulped, muscles tensing from just the sight of seeing something so great, so unbalanced with everything else in the dimension. Just one glance at it will tell you that there was nothing else in the Inner World like this. And everyone thought that the Inner World's halls and rooms were all the same, all the same size, material, and shape. Now, standing before the one thing unique in the dimension, the Minors seemed unable to feel themselves at home. Something about that door – about its threshold and shape wasn't right, even if it was shaped like everything else, just larger – much larger. It was a wall all on its own, tall and strong and denying, rejecting. Lanced looked to the right side of the door, and noticed a panel, a golden, clean panel on the handle of the door. A large keyhole sat below it, a wide mouth of hunger never satisfied, for it hadn't been fed for years. No keys dared ventured in there; they feared the keyhole, they feared the large puncture filled with darkness, filled with mystery and enigma and… and a sense of bloodlust.

Behold this door, great and majestic. What waited for them beyond it? What?


	109. Chapter 109

Before them, the feet of the wise, old door creaked. Its thick prowess was heavyset, weighing tons against the ground, cinderblock upon cinderblock weight inside it. It resisted movement, for no one had entered it for a while, and it became lonely so fast in its isolated darkness. It shared no fellow rooms, no moldiness that made it joyous, no wood to keep it company, to keep it fancied. Now, put in the darkened ways of ignorance, it held itself and itself only with grudge, a hate that became bloodlust over the few, lonesome days. Dark, greasy must dragged downward in narrow, upside-down pikes, prickling its own surface with a depressed knife of shadow, orange blood shed. Dried tears lingered at its face, its four, indecisive faces that could not be distinguished apart. It reeked of dust and the passage of time, as if it had swum in it much too long, swum just to find some comfort, some ease. No, only the presence of people – any people made it happy. Yet, arrogantly, it shut its mouth tight, strong, refusing entrance at the same time.

"This door," Lance muttered silently, carefully, as if his voice were to disrupt the deep lumber of the portal, the thick entrance put aside from recognition and into its own loathsome rest, where it could find only the least amount of comfort. "It needs… a key?" he asked, carefully, gently. Not one soul was daring enough to make a loud noise – nor a loud sound of any sort. They were afraid to move, their feet frozen in a paranoid meticulousness, only petrified by their own guilt, their own shame. All but Dylan, though, for he had no shame to sop for. He was the lucky one; so was Lance.

"Yes," Shintenmaru answered, voice rather nervous, downright panicky. He felt the need to clear his throat, to provide himself with a certain comfort. But he couldn't. Making that low, unnoticeable noise was much too tricky. Much too risky. "Good eye," he spoke. "Be careful when we go in, and only look straight forward," Shintenmaru instructed nervously, tensely, lowly in a bare whisper. "Trust me; you don't want to see what's at the sides." Lance and Dylan contemplated with nervous glances, constantly trading them in an everlasting exchange convention, then gulped, nervously. Their eyes lifted from each other with certain reluctance, as if looking at each other gave both of them comfort, ease. Lance knew that if this giant titan of a door with angry grudges leaking out from its mouth had to have a key locking its lips unlike any other door in the dimension, there had to be something important about it. Something that had to be locked up inside, something that had to be isolated, just like this door was because of everyone's fear – because of everyone's thoughts. It had to be something – something dangerous inside that had to be incased so it wouldn't harm anyone. Or… was it for the purpose not to keep something in… but to keep someone out?

Shihou focused herself, brought herself back together as much as she could into her regular norm. A thin, glinting ring of god held an immobile, unenthusiastic parade of keys in its arsenal, the golden dancers and bands jingling with each other, each with their own unique walk, unique pattern and cuts. They glinted faintly in the light, barely noticed; the noise made her wonder, made her worry. She knew eyes would be looking to the door from the other side. She knew that she couldn't make any noise, but she knew she had to at least try to act normal. Carefully she wound through each individual, each dancer, and each piece of the parade for the right one, for the right, unique piece that seemed to stand out more than the rest. Then finally, she found it. Its smooth surface of gold was small, sleek, rusted with a certain bloodlust. It felt sickening to her fingers, guilty and tainted with the curse of another, the burdens of someone more unfortunate than she.

With low-resistant trembling fingers, she moved her hand towards the door. The keys jingled once. Twice. Slowly, carefully, unexpectedly they made the noises; unexpectedly people began to worry more. Slowly, she thought. Slowly. She dug the key inside the hole. The hateful door's mouth was now filled, now ready, now awake. She felt it; she felt the gold tingle in her hands, tingle ever so slightly with the force of evil, the feeling and mood of darkness and hell. She swallowed unevenly, and for a second, forgot the next move. She felt the eyes on the other side fall the door and heavy the door, adding its weight, wanting yet somehow not wanting the entrance of an innocent other. Then, her fingers began to react again. Everyone watched, not the least bit impatient. In fact, the Council was afraid, too; they didn't want to enter. But they had to. They couldn't just leave… him there – inside, where he just didn't belong. Or did he?

Shihou turned the key. Silently it clicked. More eyes barricaded the wall. It became hard to swallow, hard to breathe; the air became thick with must, a suffocating, unseen fog of pneumonia and cancer and every other disease in the world. The door clicked once more. It was open – it was vulnerable to a single push, a tiny shove now. Many gulped, afraid, afraid of just by knowing the fact that the door could now be easily opened. "Minoa," Shintenmaru spoke gently, lately. "Get ready," he instructed carefully. A sweat drop lingered at his temple, itching against his skin, telling him to wipe it away and take its life all ready, for it was much too miserable. Shintenmaru couldn't. He had felt much too sympathy for it; sympathy that was caused by fear.

"Yeah," Minoa whispered back in a tiny, barely noticed murmur as the door was pushed with a single touch of palm by Shihou. Into the darkness the door opened. Into the dark it was engulfed, and in the Minors and councils stared. It seemed normal. It seemed like any other darkened, dimmed place in the dimension. But it was all different. It was, in fact, capable of being more dangerous, more fearsome than the Swamp of Mystery. Much more fearsome. Who would be the first to brave into the juvenile fear of dark? Hanabikai. Silent, careful steps inside. He disappeared, immediately into the blackness. Shintenmaru, worried for him, followed. Minoa, worried about both, followed. And the process went on, until everyone, reluctantly, was in the room.

They found themselves walking through the darkness, pacing with no light yet with a way as well, a sense of direction in them, a sense of place and setting. The distant crying of slow, dripping water echoed off the close yet unseen walls. A drop a second, Lance counted in his mind. Specks of time. The dripping noise surrounded them all, as if incasing them in their own prison, their own mobile trailer of hell – more hell than they were already in. "This place is creepy," Dylan muttered daringly. He looked to the corner, and found nothing but dark, nothing but shadowy black. He looked to the other side, and cuddled himself lovingly with his arms, worryingly with his fingers, and found nothing but the same apparition, mirage. Everyone's footsteps accommodated with the drops of the faraway water source. One had to know that there was a lonely pipe somewhere, slowly crying itself to sleep, tears falling into a never-ending puddle to the floor, for its origin was this hellhole, this home made it sad. An unfortunate life it had been through.

"What do you need us for anyway?" Lance spoke solemnly, loudly. The council tensed up, looked around nervously, insecurely. The Minor immediately knew that he had to be quieter from now on, for the council said nothing – none of them even dared to. Minutes went on, minutes of nothing but walking one direction – farther away from the entrance, farther away from escape, and everyone began to get tense. Then, Lance finally got his answer.

"For this," Hanabikai said, risking his own life with his own lips. His body did not cooperate with each other – each body part seemed to hate each other now with a disgust that filled them to the brim with grudge and detestation. They stopped walking. Dylan and Lance were surprised to see a change in the flow they had built in just a couple of suspenseful minutes. They looked to what the council looked to at the same time, and saw a wide, enormous wall before them – the dead-end of the room that seemed to go on forever until hell. All the more reason to call it a hellhole. Thin, barely stable ribs of metal bars towered down and dug into the ground, barring something inside, encaging it innocently. Darkness was shredded between each bar, each pole, dimming the large prison behind them.

Dark, deviant eyes peered from the darkness, distorted horridly in a demonic disruption, staring blankly, dully with the intent of death in mind comprehending currently. A low growl came from the darkness, a growl of hate. A beast laid inside, a murderous, man-eating beast. "What…What is that?" Dylan asked scared, rubbing his own thin, lanky arms for warmth, for the air had grown eerily cold, suspiciously numbing. His eyes were locked in worry, as if he wanted to go under a rock and hide, hide himself so he wouldn't be seen by this – this monster peering back at them.

The Council stalled. Nothing but eerie silence filled the surroundings for a good couple of minutes. Not even the dripping of time or water dared to speak, dared to murmur a single word or syllable. "Jeremy," Shintenmaru answered.

PoVS

"It's been a long time since we went outside," Tsukansu said comfortably, easily, slipping on a new costume and old-style hat upon his head, as if to hide his identity. The orange, dark walls around them seemed to suffocate them, mold them until their horrible deaths. He clicked something at his waist, fixed his robes gently with strong fingers. The darkness crawled like listening spies around them, and they, knowing its presence, ignored it.

"Yeah," came his answer from Raikettei, fixing his own robes and hat as well, taking new clothes to disguise himself. A new costume gave him a new look; a new look gave him more comfort. He had never tolerated the fact that he was bald. Hanabikai leaned toward the darkness to pick something up and put it over him, to wear it.

"I barely remember what the sound of innocence is like," Tsukansu said nostalgically, telling nothing but the pure truth. Nothing but darkness and lies were around his life, nothing but hell and death.

"That's easy," Hyoumaru replied, chuckling in his own favor, thinking of what he was about to say before he said it. "Just think; it was poor you when you were a kid," Hyoumaru answered, then went back to chuckling ever so slightly, ever so carefully in the rising darkness. Tsukansu seemed to sneer; others laughed, happily, engulfed in their own nostalgia as well.

"I was naïve," Tsukansu said seriously now. "But; it has been a long time, hasn't it?" he went back to being cheery again. It was so strange how they could joke about the past like this, after what they've been through. He guessed it was something you could do after so many years of crying, cheering, and fighting. However, he still felt like they were just barely capable of making fun of what happened five hundred years ago. Just barely – it gave him no comfort, just bad memories. Bad memories he didn't want to hear of again. But with the Minors – wouldn't he have to?

"Too long if you ask me," Kakori replied, fixing his dark, green hinted hair. He pulled on his own bamboo hat to secure his identity. Half his friendly face was now shaded over and costumed, the other half barely dimmed like a moon's light below a cloud; an innocent smirk told the sign of kind purpose from under the hat. "Well then, I guess we should get going," he suggested, turning back as he was at the threshold of the significant door, watching to see if everyone was ready. He lifted his head to access his full view. Everyone leaned forward, closer. The door was big, yet not so much bigger than the other wooden doors. It was made purely of stone, as if someone were afraid that someone else would open it up and venture into the unknown.

"Yeah," agreed Tsukansu as his careful steps inched forward, step by careful step coming closer in the deep darkness. It was amazing how these councils could see, despite the horridly dimmed halls and walls, doors and floors. The rest of the team followed.

"Okay, then, I hope you guys are ready," Kakori said to the other five members of the team. Everyone seemed to nod, carefully, yet somehow carelessly. With a brush of a finger, Kakori tapped the stone exterior of the significant door. It opened with an unnatural creek, split from the middle. As its two sides diverged, yellow, mystifying light poured in from a sliver, and the sliver – it grew as well, grew like a mid-ocean ridge, the hot, bubbly lava of yellow light and swirling white world pouring in with its tremendous light that never ceased to fill the councils with great awe. They peered in; watched the swirling bright goldenrod yellow mix with the mysterious dimension of white waves. It churned before their very own powerful eyes, and gave a sense that it was more powerful than them – even if each one of them combined.

Carefully, they seemed to step in. They took their foot and placed it onto the golden, groundless surface. Kakori stepped out first. There was no visible floor; no regular dirt and ground to support their feet. They just remained grounded, calmly grounded as if they had done this a million times upon an invisible ground, an unfelt one as well, for if you reached down and tried to feel it, your hand would just sink down, sink to another level until you reached another surface. Soon, all six councils poured out, and automatically, the door that led to their old habitat of darkness closed, slid with a rumble. They were happy to be out; but they weren't just outside yet. No, not yet. They had left the Inner World most definitely. But they had not even taken a breath in the Outer World.

"Will we be all right?" Raikettei wondered, stepping closer to Kakori, careful not to get too far. He tipped his unnaturally darkened with shadow hat. Their figures were shaded as if they had stood under the highest tree in the world that followed them around; yet their surroundings did not accommodate. Their surroundings were nothing but a swirling dream of gold and swirl, a fantasy of contour white, a reverie of reality. Their shadows fell from their heads up instead of their feet down. Their steps made no noise; their voices echoed on for forever. There were no walls – no limits as how far you could run and how high you could fly. But at a certain point, you had to stop – if you wanted to exit.

"Yeah," Tsukansu answered casually around the glowering light around him. The hallucinating features grew more with their psychosis every second. "It's not too far from here," he informed as he took a step past Kakori. He was the leader now. His comfortable steps slid easily against the nonexistent ground. Soon, the team followed after exchanging similar glances with each other, a waste of time and union. "Oh yeah," Tsukansu almost forgot. Everyone looked up from their bamboo hats and thick clothing. They peered with dark faces, and wondered what was wrong. "When it comes," he began. "Let me handle it."

Hyoumaru sneered nostalgically and amusingly, a friendly scoff. "You're such a fun-hog," he spoke with certainty, noting that some characteristics of Tsukansu hadn't changed over the many years he had lived – which was both a good and bad thing.

Tsukansu sneered back, the same way as his partner. "It shouldn't be too hard," he suggested, walking more towards the middle of the lost whorls of light and golden yellow. The team followed with their paranormal shadows above them. It was like a mirror image casting a silhouette reflection placed above their heads. The top part above their heads seemed a bit glassy, too; the surrealism of it seemed far too hallucinated. The team somehow seemed to know their way around the objectless barren field of no surface, no sky, no boundaries at all. Just plain field – it wasn't even a plain field, it was more like an empty space of walking on air, like you were walking above the atmosphere and defying gravity with sure, amazing steps. It was like you were in outer space, and you saw nothing around you, and everything looked the same in every single direction. That was the feeling one could get from just being here. "Anyway, I got these," Tsukansu clicked two long shafts at his waist.

"Took them out again, huh?" Hyoumaru asked, remembering the times Tsukansu had used those two in battle. They were amazing! One could be envious of his specific weapons built by him by… it was forbidden to speak, or even think of anything like that past this point. Everything beyond the line Hyoumaru was just about to cross was just memories insane from recollection, memories just waiting, wanting to be forgotten, but never left – and as a result, could only be ignored. Hyoumaru cleared his throat, trying to return himself back to his regular norm and tempo he had been caught up in before.

Tsukansu scoffed friendlily once more. He smiled, gave a short, somewhat forced chuckle along with it. Eh, why not? Just throw forced laughter in, it won't make a difference. Then, Tsukansu's features went dark with notice, serious with a suspicious, crooked frown. His footsteps froze into a slump, not a nervous slump, but a watchful one. "Here it comes," he sensed, voice deep and grave.

"Yeah," Hyoumaru agreed just as stern, eyeing everything around him from left to right. His field of vision seemed too limited in the barren space of the surreal. The air shivered, coolly, coldly, and finally the council knew that there was such a thing as air in this part of the interface between the Inner and Outer Worlds. Or, was it that, something else was making it shiver, not the temperature? Temperature didn't exist here. Everything seemed perfectly out of place. Pigs flied and the value of a million became a million times more, and at the same time, a million times less. Some traced silhouette of transparency shimmered against the swirling whorls of gold and traced white. Layers upon transparent layers continued to move constantly like water, swimming like a liquid.

"You can never be too safe," Tsukansu informed the rest of the team behind him. Everyone stopped moving. They waited. "Here it comes," he told them. The air shivered once more, eerily, gravely. "Kakori," Tsukansu spoke sternly, peering to the left to catch a glimpse of the council in his eye. He thought he saw Kakori nod and then blink in preparation, cooling his thoughts from his mind as they slowly reached the surface and lost ignition.

"I got it," Kakori ensured. With a loud snap of his palms smacking together, he declared war; the battle began. Meanly, Kakori stared left to right, left to right, over and over again, searching for something, scanning for something. Then, he took his two palms in front of him apart and slammed them against the solid-nonsolid ground. They smacked with a horrid smack, and, if possible, bright stars poured from the ground surrounding the fingers and their silhouettes. They were all various colors, more than just the seven main branches of the rainbow. They were four-sided stars, too, glittering the surrealism of the world and blinking like real stars in the darkened night sky – except now, the sky was not jet black and devious – it was fantasized and glowing brightly on the face of the new sun reality.

The millions of them poured and swirled round and round, constantly dancing with each other, sleuthing for the presence of what they were looking for, what they knew was going to be in their way, for it had been in White Cloak's way once before. The six members of the Council peered from left to right, not even caring to turn their heads as they waited in the swirling light. The specks of neon gave off the brightest luster of the world, more beautiful than diamond – more praised than gold and its riches. Their costumes rendered their faces speechless, featureless, nothing left but the bottom half of your eyes and your nose, the bare lip of your upper mouth, all shaded over in dark secrecy. The eyes continued to dot around the interface of dimension.

"It's over there," Raikettei called out, lifting one arm casually and gesturing towards the left. His voice was somewhat hoarse, yet calm, cut, unworried and unalarmed. The sudden temporary change in outfit gave them a new demanding, grim tone to their faces, as well as their personalities. They had to remain in their own personalized secretion for they were going to the Outer World – "undercover." They didn't need useless beings walking up to them in praise and prayer. They only needed the few specific people they were to talk to to recognize them. That was all; that was it.

"Okay," Kakori spoke with a staid personality, completely unlike him. These Councils – not only were they great at fighting and controlling their powers, they were great actors, too! Who would've thought? With another slight clap of hands, like it was about to parade in swirling light, the stars and specks began to gather in one place only, and began to swirl around this one place magically, dancing in their own tornado tune of music. They glittered the space with decorative colors and gave a breathtaking performance of light and beauty, constantly gusting themselves in a trapping whirlwind of brightness. The thing was now trapped. And now, it roared – it roared horribly and dangerously inside the tornado. Just what was this thing? What will it do?


	110. Chapter 110

Tsukansu unsheathed at his waist. A certain metallic, manual click told him that this was real. The whorled golden light reality couldn't stop swirling – couldn't stop ending for it went in a loop, a loop that lasted centuries, ages hence; a nothing but pure goodness swirling and churning inside with their mobile curves of white-hot streaks. The twister hurricane of sparkling lights continued to dance themselves in their ritual of life, fulfilling their only purpose as they circled this invisible monster again and again and again in a tight prison of luster. Their glittered cries sprinkled the thick, breathless air as their four edges tickled the whorls in the background, somehow the only thing that was able to reach this rich surreality, for if a human figure could try and touch it, try and feel it for his own wealth and joy, it would seem to get farther away. Farther away from him would it tick, further away it would remain, constantly, uselessly was rendered his efforts.

The roaring of a magnificent beast had no place to echo from as it was emitted by pure demon lips – or was it better to say… teeth? Its angered shouts of protest swirled in the rotating stars of multicolor, the high tornado of the aftermath of rain and sunlight. Another roar blasted outward like a trumpet instrument, a discord of a despaired scowl. "Now, Hyoumaru!" Tsukansu leaned forward in preparation, uttering a low, unnoticed scowl on his face as he vanished from his own agility. A puff of dust was what he left behind as he began his demanding run through the delusional area of constant mixed dream, a cocktail of strong, powerful and intense ingredients of imagination, born from the millions of creativity that the world has given birth to. Hyoumaru shifted, reacting to Tsukansu's command.

With that, Hyoumaru disappeared in his own agile speed. The rest of the Council watched waited, and daydreamed on their own until their use of duty fell upon them; but for now, they fantasized, their hidden fantasies drawn out from the swirls of psychosis that surrounded them. Before the sea of lights, Hyoumaru reappeared before the invisible figure, and knowing that it was definitely where he thought it was, he drew in a punch. A hard punch. Tightly gripping his fists, he sucked in a short intake of breath, resulting a sharp exhale of air. In preparation while still in midair, Hyoumaru dodged his fist into the swirling festival of lights and then –

Out it came. The fabric of the magical, twisting concert was ripped apart by an unsuspecting body that fell heavy to the floor. A cold, frothy chill began to fill the air from Hyoumaru's fist. A titanic set of icy pikes stuck to a giant skull's face. Its presence had been revealed. Its teeth chattered grudgingly, hatefully, as if it were to eat someone alive, the bare gray bone of their miniscule shape too nauseating to see, too distorted from its regular norm to glimpse at. The widened, empty sockets of the skull desired new eyes; they had once held a frozen, accusing stare, but now, with their dark ebony of detestation and idea of vengeance in their mind, they seemed alone, a hateful solitaire that the two, emptied holes shared. They dully stood, stared with no vision out into the happy-sad dream that jumped before their sockets. Its nose was nothing but an empty, narrowed hole, a cut or scar of some sort, and not a nose at all. Its cheeks were horridly skinny, horribly sleek with its anorexia clenching.

The jaws were most horrible. They missed the bloodlust they had once shared. They remembered the dripping look from the chin and the stains of red over everything it ate. A million souls combined into one, this demon head roared unknowingly, roared unpleasantly. The forehead was deviously cracked, a thin fault of blackness seeping through, a heavy artery of darkened souls creeping out with crooked fingers of the crack. The gray bone was eerie, empty, dead. The swirling of light seemed scared of it, seemed to fear it, and wanted to back away from it with its innocent vibrations of diverging motion. After so many years of following command, it had finally figured out that it did not know how to act on its own. A curtain of purple and dark violet wrapped around the bottom of it like a death scarf, a burial item. The teeth continued to chatter, and scream out inhuman roars.

The side of its face hissed as the large mound of ice from Hyoumaru's punch began to melt. A combination of a creepy smile and crooked frown remained pasted on the skull's head. The swirling specks of light stopped their merry-go-round of happiness and died away into their own fainted dreams. The real trouble began now. The blackish scarf of the skull seemed to unravel itself as the blackened kanji symbol of "judge" glowed with a lava hot shine, eerily hissing in its own danger. The symbol roared along with it, and the scarf began to unwire and untie. Then, the scarf became a curtain, a shroud of death about to take one to their respective pyre. The curtain of sinful purple let out a million of purple tentacles, a trillion of them at least. The ice now became water, and now sizzled to its own vapor. The water never had a chance to live, to thrive. The writhing tentacles now shot out at the Councils, but searched for them first, as if they were blind, and constantly wavered in the air in their own wriggling dance.

Tsukansu appeared before this demonic monstrosity, looking all calm and cut and ready. A cold hard stare gleamed from underneath the brown bamboo hat. "Sorry, Judgment," he muttered quickly and eagerly, as if the demon could hear him from their just distance. He had apologized early, and now, everyone was eager to see what he would apologize for. It had been to long since they had seen the performance of Tsukansu's twins; they'd love to see it now. Entertainment became a necessity, otherwise rants would start. One could swear upon it. Tsukansu unsheathed once more. There was a solemn, stern click of blade, and a long, drawn out metal screeching against case. Quickly was the sword drawn out, swiftly did it release a cold cloud of white blue smoke, a thick mist of periwinkle blizzard. The sword's container spewed out a stretching cloud of writhing blue smoke, a haze of mist and permafrost numbing. Its mouth constantly breathed it out non-stop, as if some kind of machine. The whole dream world of fantasy became one of cold eeriness.

The Judgment's ironic presence in the area seemed to infect the innocent dreams of others, turning them inside out and upside down from good and innocent to bad and juvenile, foolish and violent. An unsatisfied growl uttered from a low throat of voice. The tentacles continued to dance. With a final cry, the Judgment commanded its tentacles to crash down onto Tsukansu. The Council, entrenched in his own growing mist, disappeared to thin air as if it was the easiest thing to do in the world, missing the frantic tentacles by a long shot. The mist that he left behind imploded as it ate at the purple, slimy fingers. Periwinkle dusted towards the air above.

In second's notice, Tsukansu appeared behind the Judgment, facing the other way coolly, as if this were the old, wild west. He sliced the air diagonally before him, and with a line of silver cut, so was the Judgment. A sickening shriek of pain shouted from cragged, ancient teeth. Ice began to grow from its wound. Thick ice, like a rooted glacier from deep inside finally deciding to come out, and finally deciding to infect the outer shell, instead of the inner began to grow and come out, spread like a greedy hand ready to possess this demon for the many sins it had commit after its many deaths in the fabric of life. It had lived too long beyond its years. Now it was the time for its final death of sins, so it could live on with a more innocent start – and with a new second chance, it would just commit more sins. Half the skull was now frozen. Now two-thirds. And, with a last complicated roar, soon was all of it gone.

The Judgment, before suspended in midair, fell to the ground heavily with a loud, echoing thud. An echoing that defied the laws of physics. An echoing that it would stay in the Council's minds forever, and they wouldn't know why. Ever. Skillfully, Tsukansu drew back in the sword and unsheathed it expertly, coolly, victoriously. Behind him, Hyoumaru sneered, happily, sharing the victorious feeling.

He looked to his cold, slowly heating fist, watching the last wisps of cold air emit from between his fingers, clenching and unclenching his hand to muster up whatever heat he had in him to warm him up. He breathed in a sharp gasp of cool air, easing his nerves. "You know, after all those years, I still feel like you stole my power with those things," Hyoumaru commented, smiling somewhat nostalgically, somewhat seriously.

Tsukansu laughed back, amused. He let go of the cool handle of the sword and brought his hand back to his side. The weight of it went back to him, bringing him back to his journeyed norm. "Well, then," he began to say. "That's just too bad, now, isn't it?" Hyoumaru scoffed and the rest of the team behind Tsukansu began to walk up to him, approach him with certain indifference of what happened just before. They completely disregarded the presence of their own captured demon beside them as they walked, not even caring to take a glimpse at its crystallized fountain. Then, after waiting for them long enough, Tsukansu began to lead the way again, and the team followed, and walked, powerfully.

PoVS

The late night was cold. The moon howled above, hiding behind an arsenal of periwinkle clouds that slowly trailed past, slowly strolled along the jet black sidewalks of the paralleled sky, waiting for morning to arise so they would be done with their desperation jogs. The stars twinkled, blinked with their blinded paths in the sky, in the world and the whole fabric of the universe. Darkness crept around them and surrounded them like a blanket, a blanket in which they punctured through with their powerful, luminary prowess of distance. They seemed to try and hide as well, getting as far as possible from the land and trying to hide between their own periwinkle clouds. Too bad. Their great forces of light and prowess pierced through their hideouts, too. What a proof that good things could too, be bad, and vice-versa, of course. The trees reached out with their greedless hands full of innocence towards the sky, wanting to reach their dreams with their confused, indecisive fingers. They failed to move at all, failed to do anything on its own. It relied on the wind, and of course, its own, slow, tedious growth. Staying in one place. It was rather annoying, and of course, tedious. Some just weren't patient enough. And some were just unable to reach their dreams that way.

The cold grass seemed to whisper to their respective, nearest trees their own story of gossip, their own story of interest to keep them busy, the millions and billions of tiny, small voices murmuring into the clouds, murmuring into their dreams, and piquing the soft trees' blatant minds, for they nodded, moved their heads with their wind. Then, feeling sympathy for the great blades of grass, tried to reach downward to them, tried to help them up and support them to the sky with their tall, lean bodies, bringing their branches as far as they could downward. But they couldn't. That process took too much time, too. Life was harsh for these innocent souls. But they would have to learn to cope with it. Everyone on this planet did.

Two live, mobile souls were alive with their own perspiration, dotting through the forest with jump after jump from branch after branch. Their feet clicked against each surface, their hearts beat every second. One spectacled, one not, they rushed side by side, hoping and somewhat not hoping that they would find anything in their short minutes into the commanded search. They were of the same family, same branch. They respected on another, or at least now they did, anyways. They jumped more through the forest, feeling the whispers of cool air against their cheeks, the cool night calming them somewhat, yet giving them a dark, eerie feeling as the night clouded with its own suspicious darkness, one of disloyalty and distrust. They dashed with skillful, trained feet, their own hard work paying off for them. They were barely tired, for they had just begun, but they knew that it was going to be a tiresome night, and so they went on.

Takiato Daniel was the faster, the on just a foot ahead from his brother. Kenneth desperately tried to catch up. Being the skinner one had its benefits, Daniel knew. And he had to live all those years of people making fun of him for that. Well, they were shunned pretty much now, weren't they? Weren't they!? The night was psychotic; it had a weird, abnormal sense to it. It induced rather strange thoughts, but they were all soon ignored from their birth. Just like orphans. Just like the children being forced to adopt, and the ones that end up on the streets. "What's the plan?" Kenneth called out to him, trying hard to keep up with his younger brother, who just so happened to be the youngest Minor as well, but the smartest out of all of them.

Daniel sighed, breathing in a cool breeze of frosty air. It felt good inside his lungs, calming, in fact. He wished he could have those certain, specific breaths more often. But then, they wouldn't be special and as calming anymore once he got used to them, now would they? "Don't have one," Daniel quickly answered, almost in a snap. Kenneth seemed shocked, surprised, as if it was the first time this had ever happened. In fact, it was the first time it had ever happened! "I don't have enough information to build a plan," Daniel explained. Kenneth calmed, but to some scale, was disappointed. Disappointed that he couldn't make a plan? No, guess again. "But," Daniel included. Kenneth looked up, tiresome eyes glazed with the night, their icy cold blue glowering with their innocent stare and fiery blue hair. Opposites always worked together, at some point. Fiery and icy. Perfect. "It'd be nice if we found no one in our search at all, though," he explained. "But, since we don't know what's going to happen, it'd be best if we wait a while for the sun. I don't have to waste time blasting at nothing in the dark while blinded and vulnerable to all sorts of attacks."

"I see," Kenneth muttered solemnly, all full of mixed emotions right now, slowly organizing them back into their norm once again in his head. Slowly they were put together like tense, tedious jigsaw puzzles. Doing this was stressful. Too bad he couldn't quit.

"But, the colder it is, meaning the more nighttime we have, the faster and better you can use your ice techniques, so we'll always have a bit of an upper hand no matter what time of day it is," Daniel explained as well as his speed seemed to increase and Kenneth's seemed to decrease. Daniel… Kenneth thought. You keep getting farther and farther away lately. Is it me; am I the one slowing down without realizing it, or are you just you, getting so amazingly faster? At any rate, I'm proud. Daniel cleared his throat, wanting an answer. Kenneth gasped nervously, and nodded his head, gave a short utter of voice under his throat. "It's about two hours until morning, though," Daniel went on. "If we catch dawn, then both of us will be benefited."

"Okay," Kenneth replied, eager to get the job done, feeling the confidence pump into his blood constantly and take over him with a certain coyness of fragility.

"We'll go in the forest, too. It's a perfect place to hide," Daniel concluded.

"Yeah," Kenneth agreed, one more time, caught up in his own thoughts in a certain trance he called his own mind.

PoVS

Along a certain creepy mountainside, darkened by the moonlight's deceased rays, Yomi Derek rose from the ground from his bound shadows, rising from the flattened, brownish ancient grounds. He sighed, breathing in a breath of cool air, a least comforting one at that for his sweaty, tired body of constant searching and tedious rising and sinking of ground and feet. He looked around, watching the features of the cragged mounds of rock around him, around the flattened, barren area of monumental purpose. Nothing strange. The darkened night beamed upon the area, shaded over the features and made them eerie with a certain grace. It was Derek's time of night.

"Not here," he told himself, breathing softly, carefully murmuring his voice upon his team. Derek sunk back into the ground, slowly dwindling back into the shadows, into the Darkness.

"I want to find this damned white guy all ready," Zack cried out, a bit too loudly for comfort, a bit too uproarious. He whined, as always, with his words spewed out childishly from his unknowing lips. "I want to show off my new moves," he smiled proudly, thinking of the awe he would put in his teammates' faces, especially Derek. It would teach him not to underestimate him anymore. He smiled, snickered at the thought as if he were a ten year old about to receive candy, or about to do something devilish, devious. "All right!" he shouted in his own caught up pride.

"Shut up!" Derek's voice snapped at the brown haired boy from far away. Zack jerked his head, turning with a blank, juvenile stare. He blinked, once, twice. "You're too loud; you'll give away our position," Derek scolded.

Zack scoffed, stuck out his tongue childishly, deciding that there was no point in getting mad at Derek for his comments anymore. He didn't care about the rules, he didn't, he didn't, he didn't. Not one sliver of care did he have for them. He just wanted to have fun. That's all he knew. That's all that made him happy, all that kept him smiling. So why didn't they just let him be? Because once in a while, you had to bring yourself back into reality and make yourself realize that things in life aren't always happy – you had to follow the rules and you had to be serious once in a while. Zack had never woken up at all – he hadn't even stirred, blinked. "You don't even know if he's here or not. Why would he go to this place anyway? And just where are we?" Zack cried out meanly, snapping back.

"It's the monument area for the organization that saved the Council as teenagers from White Cloak," Mark quickly answered appearing from one of the human-resembling statues wrapped in a heavy-looking cloak of marble. There were twelve monuments, each representing a different person. They were carved from marble with their perfect bodies and different looks showing their varying kinds of power and prowess. Just looking at them told you that the real ones had to be powerful. Real powerful if they were capable of protecting the Council, even as children.

Zack peered to Mark, and blinked, as if asking how did he know all these things he was telling them. Zack – he was the one that always asked the many stupid questions, but once in a while, you might come across a good one that you might want to know the answer to as well, for you didn't know the solution to it. "It's the area with the most marble in the ground in this whole dimension. Kanadou took me here to train me when Hibiyomi was away," he explained. Zack nodded, and wondered if Mark knew what he had been thinking.

"I see," Zack muttered in awe. He looked around at the different lengths and different examples and poses of the marble statues, showing their power, their skill, their technique of protection, of love for the universe that they once had. Their perfect bodies and perfectly chiseled features could only be made by the talented powers of the Council Free Spirits. They never ceased to fill Zack's glazed glance with awe. "Amazing," he muttered quietly under his breath. "These things are sort of creepy, though,"

"Zack, that's a really disrespectful thing to say," Mark muttered meanly. "You should apologize – unless you want to get punished," he said in a bit of a suspicious, threatening tone. Zack scoffed and stuck his tongue out once more, immaturely.

"Ha, by who?" he sneered disrespectfully.

"By me," came his quick answer. Mark narrowed his eyes, reminded Zack of his skill in training and physical fighting, and with a cold hard stare, reminded him of how strong his body must be. Zack gulped at the thought. Then, without another word, he kneeled down in front of the statue he had last looked at, and began to squint, nervously. He gulped once more, and folded his hands in apologetic prayer. His two teammates watched and smiled, their spirits amused. And so was another spirit, far, far away from them, watching from an elevated cliff, and prepared to kill.


	111. Chapter 111

The night continued to stir, trying to keep itself awake. The audience of guilty, exiled clouds continued to sway reluctantly, loathingly. The moon's crescent smiles hid beneath another smile upon smile, keeping its happiness a secret, for if others knew of it, they would take it away in an instant. The darkened shadows of the night seemed to be everywhere – in the sky, the ground, even the air seemed thick with the heavy darkness of past midnight. Derek's team found themselves, bodies cool and unbaked, preserved in the comforting darkness that would soon infect them, watching the idiot Zachary pray for forgiveness, kneeling religiously on the floor, eyes forced to wince and bury themselves away in shame. They were in some kind of trench, an open grave that waited with a widened open mouth for its dead bodied feast. The ground was smooth, steady, and thick with a hard texture that couldn't seem to be punctured through. No trees surrounded them, only the trees at the higher ground, above the gigantic, waiting grave.

And the twelve marble monuments stood, clean and pure with their strange appearances and weird stances showing off their immobile techniques of beauty, of power. They stood, names scribbled microscopically under their feet, their frozen bodies acting as the only coffins to be put in this wide grave. The walls were crisp and cragged, distant from the team as they stood in the middle, watching, waiting. The bushes stirred beyond their heads. The rustling of leaves was inevitable. Derek turned his head with certain alertness, alarm filling his every move. He looked to the darkened bushes far from his place, watched them for any suspicion that may arise from them, jump out at them. Nothing.

Seconds passed. Zack had not finished praying; one could imagine the words he was thinking right now, those begging, pleading words. Derek seemed amused at that; he always liked to see Zack get in trouble for being the foolish boy he was. The funny thing about that Minor was, though, that he always seemed to never care, always seemed to want to be Derek's friend. One time or another, Derek began to wonder if he was treating him the right way. But that was from his mind right now. Derek backed up with small, unnoticeable steps as he kept his eye on the ground above, still watching the bushes and trees from far away, darkened upon their own grievous shadows that infected them so with a paradise of parasites.

The Shadow Minor breathed, sharply as he slid to the closest statue and slid behind it, muscles tensing as he felt the cool marble touch against his just as cold skin. He swallowed unevenly, breathed unevenly. "Back down," he whispered softly to Mark, who had still been watching over Zack's shoulder like a security officer. Mark immediately noticed with a certain automaticity and followed, hiding his presence slowly. They waited in silence, waited as not even a cool murmur of air gossiped by, not even a slight tickle of the moon above changed. No sound. No movement. No breathing. Just wait. Soon their answer came; soon their real prayer was answered.

With a burst of energy, the bushes and plant life above them spat out a blur of shade into the air that soon disappeared into its most agile speed. Everyone seemed alert of its presence; everyone seemed prepared. The presence blur rushed right into the deep grave and ran quickly, swiftly towards the unknowing Zack. A deep shimmer of a dagger's blade seemed to accommodate with the lustrous moonlight that faintly tickled the ground below.

The ground seemed to crack at the godly speed as it rushed towards the Wind Minor with surefire agility. The night continued to howl indistinctively around them, a soft grey of clouds continuing to watch with boredom eyes and miserable tears, miserable from the monotone process it had to go through every single night, for almost half the day! Sometimes even longer than half the day, it had to go on. For once, there was something to entertain them with a bare amusement. This was better than nothing; the whole night seemed to agree on this together. The knife reeled in with sinful, impure gloved hands. It glimmered faintly with a dusky luster. The body charged forward – so did the dagger. Zack was an inch away before…

A sudden sound of physical impact filled the night. No blood spilled, no pain seared, no cries uttered from demised lips. A seventeen year-old's hand tightly locked another in stainless white clothing; a silver dagger barely missed this boy's toned forearm. No longer were his hands folded in prayer of faked forgiveness, no longer were his eyes closed in act. A smirk of success lingered on his lips, a narrowing of eyes for the first, cool time. Nonbiri Zack held the wrist of White Cloak, the prestigious Scholar that seemed to be always after them, locking him in a hold of his own. "Plan…succeeded," Zack muttered out in a strong whisper as everything that concerned silence, suspense and boredom of night seemed to break down like a crackled mirror and seemed to crazily jump out in random, hyperactive motions. The tension broke out; war began. "Now, Derek!" he cried out, calling out to his teammate.

Derek soon followed. The Shadow Minor seemed to jump from nowhere, coming before the white clothed Scholar and appearing between his own rival teammate and his own team's rival. He placed a delicate hand on White Cloak's unmoving, inorganic chest and began his new move. His tense confidence drove out his powers. "Maina-Kage: Amimono Kansen! –Web Infection-" he shouted with declaration, dark, thin lines erupting from his fingers and spreading all over White Cloak's clothes. It seemed to rip apart his skin from the inside, growing like a real infection over his exterior body and setting him ablaze with intense shadow energy that hissed at his skin, evilly like a devil snake filled with venom. The unspeaking White Cloak backed up; brought over the knife and held his chest. He didn't make any noise, even when he moved. His presence almost seemed… surreal, unskilled, abnormal. Derek sensed there was something wrong.

Then, with a second's worth of passing, the prestigious figure vanished, and faded into thin air. His silhouette was no longer presence, nor was he in general. Confused faces washed over the team. "What!?" Zack cried out in shock, eyes broadening in surprise. The beginning of the battle seemed to get the night hyped up, no longer tense, no longer bored, no longer miserable from its life-long waiting. It would savor every moment of this beautiful fight.

"Over there!" Mark cried out in alarm, gesturing towards a clear point of where he was now. Had he teleported? Was this the real him? Derek muttered out a cry of just a beginning preparation, ready to charge for him, having only a millisecond passing from since he heard the message from Mark. However, someone beat him to it. Zack leaned forward quickly, skillfully as if he had done it all his life and zoomed, rushed with amazing speed that was none like Derek had seen before. He had even gone without Derek noticing, and with a bare second, Zack found himself ready to attack the newfound presence of White Cloak. Derek widened his eyes in shock, a bit of awe in there, too, somehow knowing that Zack had indefinitely grown during training. He got fast! Derek called to himself with an open mouth.

Zack snickered a humored hypocritical smirk and said one thing, and one thing only: "Die." Placing his palm near White Cloak's slowly backing up chest, Zack demanded the name of his new move with the loudest, strongest voice he could ever give: "Tenkuu Kirite! –Air Cutter-" A burst of slicing wind emitted from his palm, pushing White Cloak backward with amazing, eye-catching force. Everyone was confident that that move had made a tremendous amount of damage. The sound of splicing wind against his limp, seemingly uncaring body wouldn't seem to stop as he was dragged farther away from Zack. Then, once again, White Cloak faded, unharmed as he left the slicing air to die away. Zack scowled. Where was he now? Everyone had to be alert; eyes wandered back to back, not knowing what to do until White Cloak showed himself.

"Another one?" Mark asked in his own disappointment, scowling at the team's misfortune. Derek narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Guys, let's stop it," Derek called out to them. Mark and Zack gave curious, non explanatory looks to the black-haired Minor. "We're giving him information about our techniques – use your regular moves until the real one comes out."

As if on cue, another faker of the ominous White Cloak figure jumped from a monument's head and came down on Derek. The Shadow Minor was tackled downward, and with a hateful kick, shot the cloned body off of him. He sent the silence of White Cloak fluttering through the air as Derek got himself fixed back up with a scowl, dusting his clothes. The faked image stopped its fall with frog-like feet. It seemed to wait, and not even watch them. It just stayed still, waiting yet not waiting, moving yet not moving. "Is that the real one?" Zack cried out in suspicion, confusion.

"No," Mark told his teammate. "It has slow reactions. It doesn't move like a normal human being. That's how you know," he explained thoroughly and quickly, not taking his eyes off the figure of the fake White Cloak for a second, as if watching to see if it were to move or speak or do anything of interest at all. It did nothing, yet it did everything, all of its characteristics were unsure of, and just by doing that one nothing, he wowed everyone, just by standing, kneeling there.

"I see," Zack gestured. "But… White Cloak's not a normal human being," he said with exception. He gulped, swallowed unevenly, nervously. Everyone seemed tense as they stood, not knowing what to do but watch. They saw perfect chances but hesitated for a reason even they couldn't figure out. Then, suddenly, from the imitator's back came out another White Cloak. It seemed like a fungus, a fungus of another copy of him that grew out of his own body and cloned him. It jumped out with incoherent speed and toppled over Zack. Mark came to the rescue, kicking with great force from his life-long training of his physical skill to get the second clone off Zack's body. The brown-haired Minor helped the other brown-haired Minor up from the floor. "How many are there going to be?" Zack asked as he dusted his clothes and brushed the perspiration off his brow. He squinted rather nervously, sighing a sharp, hesitant breath. His eyes showed their hesitation in a hard squint.

Now, watching the two sit side by side in different motions of moving and unmoving, more tension piled upon the air, and they wondered what they would do, hesitating throughout all their wait. They didn't know what was the right thing to do. They didn't very well know which one was the real White Cloak, or when he would appear. "He's playing with us," Derek scoffed in certain blank thoughtlessness. The team sighed as they watched the two clones stumble on their feet, and get ready.

PoVS

The dark of the room and walls seemed to drag away from them, seemed to pull them towards another dimension, another place in the world. It seemed so surreal, so fantasized and blistering with new thoughts and ideas that it was almost refreshing to experience. The metallic, thin bars gave their way and bent, distorted themselves in fresh curves so that they could become something more than they were. The darkness lit up and the hesitation wore out, eroded by the new breathtaking motions around them. It had all began with one cry of, "Visible Darkness!" from Minoa, the Mind Council. The distortion of dimension took them away and put them in their own illusionary dimension where they would be safe.

The orange, darkened walls became hot, sizzling horizons of blurring, hissing air and distant, cloudless blue skies. The dark musty plaster ground became unsteady, dementing of their innocence and becoming soft and sedimentary, soft with a baked, golden brown of hot hissing sizzle. The dark, unseen ceiling was demeaned from its proper dignity and brought down to a distant vertical sky, a cloudless bank of blue that had nothing to show for, nothing to work for but the hot, blazing sun in which it held its greedy fingers in, carrying it like a pearl, its one and only possession now. The councils and two Minors along with Jeremy, if you could still calm him that, were now finding themselves in the hottest of the hottest.

"Wh-What?" Dylan muttered to himself in awe. "Where are we?" he asked, voice blank with pure curiosity, not knowing just what the heck was going around him, now knowing what had happened in just a matter of minutes, seconds that seemed to warp and wrap around him with certain puzzlement and confusion. He looked around in his own naiveness. His eyes couldn't seem to comprehend anything anymore.

"Somewhere safer," came his answer from Hanabikai, who brushed his brow once from his former perspiration of nervous anxiety. Somewhere safer was right, but technically, they weren't safer – for there were no metal bars to protect them from Jeremy's raging cries and devilled attacks, demonic blasts of whatever he might do. Only dunes of deep fried sand protected them now, barely. It was a desert. They found themselves in a desert.

Jeremy looked around with hardcore, possessed dark eyes, the opposite color of what they used to be. They were pure black, purely dark with the depths of hell found inside them, roaring with the hellish black lava of grudge and hate washing over the once innocent molten plates of igneous intrusion. They growled, they gurgled with their deep, darkened murderous attempts and grave, over-exaggerated sins stuffed into their every bubble, too many to count so that a million had to be put in one tiny little atom that swam in the shallow depths of bare time, shunned life. The eyes looked around, scanned the desert area with hateful eyes, and realizing where it was, it screamed, screamed as if the desert was poisonous, as if it had been infecting him with the sounds of good… or was it just the grave thoughts of his own human memories?

Jeremy's getting wilder, Dylan realized. "We should hurry," council voices conversed with each other beyond his consciousness. Dylan was caught in his own thoughts, his own trance of memories and future predictions. "Yeah," the voices answered back beyond his own realization, beyond his own years. The words he heard had no meaning; he barely even recognized them as words – he didn't try to decipher them. They were just syllables, sounds of old letters and sounds muttered from… was it human, mouths. The Botany Minor just stood there, watching, eyes horrified in their own petrification of fear and disbelief. The hot, sizzling air seemed to burn and spill the blazing venom over his skin, baking his not too tanned skin into a crisp tone. A tan would do him some good. He was paler than most of the Minors, but he wasn't pale.

Slowly, he remembered all those times he shared with Jeremy. He remembered when he had first met him, when he had first coughed uneasily with dust from his lungs. He remembered those smiles he always used to nervously smirk and that long hair always blocking his eyes, which he had so easily, simple-mindedly brushed away from his face to reveal his innocent, childish eyes. And now… he was… this thing that would tear apart dimensions and worlds in half. Now, he wasn't Jeremy… was he? This… this is Jeremy…? Dylan thought with an exasperated thought. Was he like this… all along? He had to ask himself, taking himself back to the time where Jeremy had protected him from that… that girl who he had hurt – no. He didn't just hurt her, Dylan remembered. He _killed_ her with that giant black hole that almost ate Dylan up, too, until there was nothing left but a splotched puddle of blood on the floor, proof that someone had one existed but now died into eternity, locked forever in the sea depths of life as we know it now, only knowing the meaning of life that she was so uneager, unable to share, swimming around aimlessly in her own demise, her demise being every second, her resurrection of bare soul being every other second.

He had killed her, yes, he had, with those same dark, demon eyes that he had now, staring at him before him, roaring with no memory or recollection whatsoever. The fiendish roars of malevolence brought him back from his flashbacks. Dylan blinked, once, twice, to make sure he was alive. The echoing roar of Ikimichi Jeremy screamed through the hot, blazed desert. He was screaming… screaming for help? Was he screaming to be saved, cries echoing from the normal Jeremy from within this beast that continued to grow and dominate his soul with eager, demonic bites? Or was it roars of preparation, roars of hate and anger and detestation getting ready to rip these council and Minor bodies apart? Which was it? Which?

That time… Dylan remembered back then when he had killed that girl without realizing it right after. That was him…now? No, it's different, he told himself. It's not just that his appearance and powers have changed like last time; it's almost as if his whole personality has changed, flipped upside down to become close to its opposite, Dylan recognized, watching this demon roar, getting ready to rip some souls apart, readying itself to kill. I'm almost… scared of him.

"Everyone, watch out!" Shintenmaru sensed as he cried out horridly, Minoa getting closer to Jeremy and holding out her arms, not in a savior position but in a defending position. Dylan seemed to awaken from his trance, blinking and gasping as he was just in time to see a small sphere of sucking black hole rising in purple and green streaks of enigma, a baby black hole beginning to rip space and time apart. Minoa stood, the only being there able to cancel out the black hole with her powers.

A horrid roar gave from the demonic Jeremy as the sucking pit began to grow from its open mouth of hunger. "San-sou Genkai! –Three-Layer Limit-" Minoa called out as she held her arms out, the purple energy rising from her own palms and blasting out before her in a great wall as thick as the world itself. It was like a net, a net that captured and went against the black hole it stood before, and defended the rest of the team from it. The sucking hole continue to breathe in with devious whorls, greatly breathing in the first pane of force field with tremendous energy, almost about to shatter it like a strong wind did to a window pane. Minoa seemed to struggle, trip over her own stance over the hot, sizzling sand. Why had she picked such a hot place to go to? No specific reason; she just picked the first thing that came to mind to get out of the Inner World as fast as possible and bring them into her own illusionary world of fantasy. She guessed she just wanted a vacation.

"I need you guys to help us knock him out!" Shintenmaru explained, shouting over the roar of the spacious terror and paned force field. His red hair fluttered greatly with the drawn wind. His voice was almost sucked out completely.

"Us? Why us?" Dylan demanded just as loudly, his hair ruffling, his hand holding his orange headband of the sun with great effort as to not let it go and die away into the hazard. "Aren't you guys stronger than us anyway?" he shouted through the wind.

"You're closer to him, though; you have a closer, thicker bond with Jeremy than we ever did. We usually just ignored him without realizing it. I could imagine how he must've felt," Shintenmaru cried out over the roaring wind, roaring cries of the sadness Jeremy shared deep inside.

"What about me?" Lance cried out. "I've never talked to the kid; how can I have a closer bond with him? I had nothing to do with him from the start!" he declared over the growing wind. Minoa struggled beyond them. They felt the sand being drawn away from their feet and wanting to make them trip.

"That may be true," Shintenmaru agreed, screaming. "However, we needed your eye for detail! That characteristic belongs to you and you only!" he called out.

"Oh, that's just great!" Lance yelled in agony. Soon, the black hole was cancelled out. The desert returned to normal and the howling winds, the only coolness that the Council and Minors shared in this blazing hellhole died away. Minoa breathed heavily, panting tiredly as her hands remained put out and ready, her hair more ruffled than anyone else's with her crutched hands sizzling with tremendous energy.

"Go! Now you have your chance!" Minoa called out, demanded with heavy breathing.

Dylan gulped. "Any advice before we –"

His voice was cut short; there was no time to waste, the Council knew. "Don't die," Hanabikai suggested. Dylan gulped once more, and leaned forward, hesitation filling his every muscle and every movement. He resented doing this, and Lance was just worried for his own safety. What would happen from here? There was a very good chance that they would die, and somehow, the Council just knew they'd be all right. What would become of this battle? Dylan thought no more, deciding that he could do nothing to make him feel better, and charged for it.


	112. Chapter 112

Daniel stood there, watching, waiting with narrowed, gleaming eyes, their meticulous glances never ending in the same old pattern. Each pupil was like its own careful sun, constantly scanning the beautiful sunlight vision over the trees, the grass, the air until the horizon came over. His arms were put out like a lonesome tree's branches, glimmering with those many invisible threads of life. They shot out from all over his body, these strings of pure life energy webbing itself in a mystifying trap that went through the whole forest, and bound themselves on every tree, every single branch. They zigzagged, as if not knowing where to go, not knowing what to do, the purpose of their life drained from their memory and recollections, empty shards of glass thoughts that told them nothing now.

The moon above scowled, deeply, meaningfully. It hid between the soft innocence of teal clouds, the fabric of a frothy night high in the sky, and put away into its own isolation. The moon was coy today, secretly watching from above under its cloudy coverlets that would soon trail away from it greedily, mindlessly. Takiato Daniel could do nothing, not even speak, for constantly he had to sleuth, and constantly he had to examine each and every object. The threads of the trap moved slightly, barely to let go a glimpse of their glowing light. The wires continue to glower in the night, fixing themselves into perfection, sewing themselves as an old woman do, when she had lost the purpose to her life, and she had nothing left to do.

Daniel's brother stood, stood at the highest tree's peak, watching the skies as if in boredom, in rest, for his own joy and comfort. No, just like Daniel, he had a task to complete as well. He, too, was observing the area, observing the skies for anything strange. The trees in the area were dead, leafless as if the hot, scowling breath of the upcoming fall had all ready brushed upon it, and made it limp, lifeless. The dead grass didn't help the life in the area, either, once they had been drawn with a thick, healthy green. Now they lay, heads bowed toward the floor in recognition, wanting to just lie down and have a rest that would last an eternity's worth of hibernation, now yellowish and gold but worth nothing, ancient, and ready to die.

"Have you found anything yet?" Kenneth spoke quietly, softly and carefully in a murmur only meant for Daniel, arms crossed in a balance to secure his non-falling. Kenneth's eyes seemed to wander away from task, trail from awareness and to the periwinkle delicacies above that danced about, slowly and gracefully in the sky with their own uncoordinated dance, choreographed by nature, which would make the most beautiful performance one could ever find. They would be more beautiful than the musicals of the busy, greedy city; more beautiful than the glimmering chandeliers of the fanciest restaurant with their accommodating silverware that seemed to smile happily with their perky little clinks against glass and plate.

"No," Daniel answered, voice somewhat deeper than it usually was, arms suspended in the air as if he was waiting, waiting for needles to inject him. He stared out, meanly, glaringly. "I don't sense anything in the thirty mile diameter," he informed as he fingered the air a while, playing with the glowering threads and showing bits of their presences in the faint moonlight. "Nothing from the sky?" he asked, piqued slightly from boredom in hopes, small hopes so he wouldn't be left disappointed.

"No," Kenneth said, somewhat smiling as he continued to watch the recitals of misty clouds above. He eyed every single spin and counted every pair of twirls and spins that amazed him beyond belief. "Just cold air," he added, uninterested. As if on cue, the ground seemed to shake microscopically around Kenneth, a tiny, miniscule magnitude that almost put Kenneth off the tree and towards the floor. He stammered, his stance faulting a bit as he frantically brought himself back to his standing norm. He exhaled sharply, trying to calm his pounding heart of exasperation. The cold air of the night seemed to keep him still now, seemed to hold him down to the tree that he so desperately kept on now, realizing the slim chance of him staying on and the enormous probability of him falling to a crumbling doom. He exhaled once more, just for his careful comfort, as if a large one would put him over the edge.

"What is it?" Daniel asked quickly, wasting no time as his eyes shot faster back and forth.

"Nothing," Kenneth answered. "I almost fell, that's it," he ensured Daniel, but had yet to ensure himself. He looked to the ground, perspiration growing from the side of his face, nervous anxiety pouring from him and trying to keep him balanced on that thin treetop. Strange, the blue haired Minor thought, keeping his eyes on the ground. I wasn't even moving at the least… how could I even almost fall? Now, as if to and to the small quake before, there was an even bigger one, right under Daniel's feet that almost caused him to fall on his back.

Daniel cried out in shock, and Kenneth tried hard to keep himself on top of the tree. The rumbling stopped. Daniel's heart almost stopped beating, but then…. A hand broke through the ground with an enormous puncture and tightly gripped around Daniel's ankle in surprise. Calling out once more, Daniel tried to pull away from the horridly discolored fist; it didn't work. Then, a whole body broke through the ground before him, a devious figure bringing in a punch right into Daniel's face. It seared with pain, sent him flying many feet away. Daniel pulled himself together in midair, and shot out life threads from his fingers to connect him with the ground to stop his flight. It had happened so suddenly, so quickly, it was unavoidable, this fake-out technique.

"Kenneth!" Daniel called out to his brother, making him alert o the current situation as he brought a wrist to the corner of his mouth to wipe. He stood among the ground like a four-legged beast, as if there had been no time to move and fix himself from the after fall, as if there was no time to stall preparation.

"Daniel!" his brother called back, noticing his brother's new position on the floor. The blue-haired boy jumped from the tree's peak and fell to the floor to his side. "What happened?" he pleaded, holding on of his younger brother's arms.

Daniel seemed to want to talk, but then, staring past his brother's shoulder, knew that there was no time for such a thing. "Watch out!" Daniel cried out, and with all his strength, threw his brother to the side as he let the opponent rush into his body. The new rival drove a blistering punch erupting Daniel's insides, falling upon his chest. Daniel's legs went up from the impact, and cried out a horrid yell of pain into the air. Kenneth watched, unable to do anything in such a short amount of time, and then quickly got up on his feet and got readied. The opponent laughed, cackled horridly like a witch did as she cast an evil spell, laughing at the most unsightly, twisted thing one could laugh at, the psychotic laugh of psychotic laughs.

"Get off him!" Kenneth shouted in a growing agony that would soon become a hatred later on. Kenneth reeled in a punch, but it was too slow; the enemy dodged away and punched himself right into the ground again, and slithered right into the deep, soiled ground once again, safe for the moment. It was hard to catch a glimpse of the enemy. So very hard. This wasn't White Cloak. This was someone else. But who? And why? Every time he arose from the ground, he appeared a discolored blur of speed until he reeled in a punch, and everything went white-hot. "Who are you?" Kenneth shouted, now at Daniel's side as his little brother tried to get back up on his feet, washing the pain away from inside using a mental image. "What do you want?" he cried out circling his eyes around the area for his own security, just in case.

"Who else?" the voice seemed to boom from all directions. Its deviant sound seemed sparse, undernourished. "You, of course. Boss told me to kill you if I'd like; I guess I'll do just that," it answered, snickering in its own secrecy that surrounded Kenneth in enigma. The Minor didn't know what to do. He just stared around, watching frantically at everything he could, for the enemy may pop up anywhere and anytime.

"Who are you working for!?" Kenneth called out from his own stupidity and cloudy mind. His mind wasn't working properly; he was asking blatant questions.

"Kenneth, stop it," Daniel muttered. "He's working for White Cloak; his level of power and mutation could only be achieved by him," he explained. "Plus, who else could invade this dimension and bring people in?" he added. Kenneth assumed he was right. It was all right to trust Daniel's words when he trusted you back. He wouldn't let anyone down with information he knew. Daniel leaned forward, uncomfortably.

"So, I see the redhead is the smarter one," the demonic voice cackled from below the ground. "Well then, let's see how naturally timid you are, then, too!"

"Kenneth, watch out," Daniel warned, still on the ground.

"Yeah," Kenneth answered, somewhat halfheartedly. "I got it."

The voice laughed, hearing in on their conversation, not knowing any privacy. "You shouldn't be the one telling him to watch his back!" it cried out enormously with the largest, booming voice ever heard. "Idiot!" it ridiculed. The enemy burst from the ground again and erupted more punches at Daniel. The first one hit with surprise, and sent him sliding against the ground.

"Daniel!" Kenneth called out in sympathy, leaning forward to help.

"Kenneth, stay back!" Daniel pleaded, still on the ground, trying to get back up on his feet before the enemy could manage another attack.

"Yes, Kenneth, stay back!" the enemy cackled evilly as he reeled in another punch, much too fast for Daniel to detect. But for Kenneth… it was a different story. The punch came in. A sound of impact. No pain went through Daniel's side of the face. A fist blocked, eagerly. It was Kenneth. Then, while the enemy was still shocked in his own surprise, Kenneth made a direct kick to the opponent's body, and sent him drilling another hole into the ground once again.

"You really thought I'd let you die that easily?" Kenneth said friendlily, bringing Daniel back up on his feet. Daniel, straining, tried to speak, but failed the first time. His arm was around Kenneth's shoulder, and together, they brought each other up. Daniel's face was all ready tired, showing heavy breaths being inhaled and exhaled constantly. The younger Minor tried to fix himself, dusting his clothes rather slowly, unsurely.

"Thanks," Daniel rasped, breathing hoarsely, trying to catch his breath once again.

"Aw… how cute," the voice came back, boomingly and mockingly. He arose from the hole, staying still, inside it like a shell. They could clearly see him now with brown, discolored skin and white, grayish hair. His teeth were shaped like fangs, like a beast, his eyes dark instead of white and his pupil a deep, evil yellow instead of an innocent bright color. He wore no clothes, but was a mermaid of the earth, but instead of half fish, he was half worm. He hissed at them in detestation, laughing at their pathetic beings. "You guys make me sick!" he shouted, a quick change of sarcasm and tone. He roared as his forehead began to shuffle unevenly, disgustingly until a third eye opened itself up, strangely, slowly and grimly. Kenneth found himself freaked out. Daniel had no time to be freaked out.

The opponent roared once again, the battle cry now turning into a screech of prowess, of showiness. The enemy hissed one more time and let out his tongue, split in two like a lizard's or snake's, hiss outward, and play the air with its pinkish finger. The dark eyes narrowed themselves threateningly. Another eye…? Daniel thought creepily. As if on cue to his thought, the opponent zoomed out from the hole and charged for them like a fast, fattened snake. Kenneth and Daniel dodged to the side just barely, missing the opponent's missile of a body. Then, just as they thought they had escaped the attack, the wormy tail of the opponent smacked Daniel as he left the air and dug into the ground once more. Daniel fixed his glasses; they had been somewhat knocked away. He cried out as he brushed his cheek, trying to comfort it back to its norm.

Daniel pulled away from Kenneth, knowing that it was better off if they didn't drag each other down and became two targets instead of one. He's too fast… damn it! Daniel thought as he ground his teeth tightly in hate. He clenched his fists, unable to think of a good plan because of the current situation. How do I do this? He begged of himself. How?! How do I do it!? No, Daniel told himself. Don't get scared, don't. Calm down… Daniel brought a fist holding a dagger of life energy and struck it right into his other hand. Blood squirted out, and sent pain flying through his own hand. He thought it would help him get over his fear, but it didn't. Daniel cried out in pain, agonized from his own stabbing.

The enemy scoffed, somehow seeing this from underground. It must've been the third eye, Daniel realized. "Trying to rid the fear with pain?" the voice ridiculed from below. "Not happening," he mocked. "I knew you were coy from the start."

Daniel ignored the insults of the enemy, for he didn't care for them; he didn't even know the opponent's name. Calm down, Daniel kept telling himself. Calm down. "Daniel…" Kenneth muttered under his breath sympathetically, calmly as if to hide it from his brother, who didn't very well seem to notice him speaking. He washed a look of worry over his face, watching his brother try to rid of his fear that he so much denied. He had promised Shintenmaru he wouldn't feel that way, ever! He wouldn't!

PoVS

Teresa and Walter continued to rush through the thick trees, barely even talking to each other because Teresa was rather sparse in comfort from being around someone who seemed so… tense all the time. He hadn't even looked at her; he had acted as if she had not been there for the whole time, and she just kept her eyes on him, and he knew that. The thick trees were glowing with a morning glory that came too early. Their thick bodies seemed to stand no obstacle in the two-man team's way, their bushy heads wide and shady, their as well as thick shadows falling over their faces in a tickle that gave them a shady comfort.

The grassy trees hid away the moon as it eavesdropped on their soundless conversation and spied on their every single move, every single step as if it were to give it a million dollars. The clouds above were only seen from punctured holes and shadows of the canopied forest. It was like a jungle without vines or marsh, but thick with heat that didn't seem to die in the night and wildlife. Few birds twittered themselves a perishing song of alertness before they nodded to sleep. Nests rustled, bushes answered back affectionately. Squirrels dotted against the leafy ground, their clawed steps tapping lightly and attentively, their tails like roller coasters, amusingly waving as they moved with that tiny nut of autumn in their hands. The cool mist settled in, and Teresa was fed up.

She cleared her throat, calling his attention. Walter did not answer; she didn't care, she began to talk anyway. "It'd be better if it were morning," she said strongly, declaratively. "Then we'd have an advantage; but I suppose that's not the case right now, is it?" No answer. She went on. "No matter; it's only about an hour or two before morning anyway, right?" No answer. She searched for the sign of recognition over Walter's face. She stalled it for a long time, a longer time than she expected. Then, finally giving up, she began to accept the fact that there was none.

"Teresa," Walter surprised her. Teresa jerked her head up, and looked to Walter in her own recognition with shocked eyes; she hadn't expected him to call her. "I have a favor to ask of you." Teresa just kept running, waiting with her long sleeves dragging her by. Walter knew she was ready for the question, for she seemed very interested. "Eric," he began. "He solved your problems, right?" he asked seriously.

"Yeah," Teresa answered quickly, almost cheerfully but not too cheerfully as to scare him away. "Why?" she asked back, curious.

"Just…" Walter disregarded her question. "Who is he, exactly? Why does he care so much?"

"Because, I guess…" she let her voice trail off and began to peer off to the treetops above in thought. She watched the moon through punctured holes, as if it were to give her an answer, as if it were to provide her with warmth and realization. "I guess it's just that he's someone who… who cares. Someone who'll actually try to solve your problems, because he's had some of his own," she explained the best she could.

"His mother died mysteriously; his childhood was full of him getting made fun of by the other kids at school. That's what his problems were. It doesn't make any sense; it doesn't ft together," Walter almost snapped at her. Teresa stared, and thought for another while as they kept running aimlessly through the shadows and bypassing trees.

"No, it's more than that," Teresa explained. Walter seemed to be the one who was surprised now, widening his stare just a little bit, then returning them to a mean, cold glare ahead. "He wants someone to protect; someone to care about because he's all ready failed at losing the ones he loved. That's who he is; that's the answer to your question," she said softly back, giving Walter some insight.

Walter sighed, and somewhat scoffed. "Someone to care about," he muttered under his breath, so low that Teresa couldn't hear him. "Why would he want to care about me; I'm just a suicidal freak." Teresa ran on, not noticing that Walter was lowly whispering to himself. "In that case, Teresa," Walter spoke louder this time, catching the girl's attention. She quickly turned to him, blinked once. "If we find White Cloak…" he let his voice trail off somewhat. He cleared his throat, as if it was a nervous thing to say, but in reality, he really wasn't nervous. It was just a habit. "Let me take the lead," he suggested.

Teresa seemed to stammer at first, unsure of what to answer. "Sure," she said, not really certain about her answer. She turned back, and they continued to run through the forest, somewhat searching and somewhat not, looking past shadows and watching beyond their horizons.

PoVS

Silhouettes talked, legs crossed on the floor respectively, dark shadows of moving people and chatting among a bamboo film that covered their presences, shaded them over and took away their color eagerly, innocently. Voices were mumbled through the bamboo, encased in their own private speaking. Three silhouettes motioned gently, respectively, two sitting side by side, waiting, both elderly. Another thick with a bamboo hat, sitting respectively and being the only on speaking chatting, while the elders examined, observed him, and listened. The lights were on dimly, and somehow, they were transmitted through the tiles that the bamboo built.

"I suppose Shihou would've liked to come herself," a familiar voice spoke, standing up in finale, about to take his leave. The old Japanese furniture cornered the room from the sides, nothing but two mats there to sit on comfortably, to kneel on in prayer of monument.

"I'm sure," an elderly woman's voice choked out in an ancient rasp of tone.

"Thank you for having me. It was a pleasant visit," the visitor's voice rang on. The being seemed to hesitate to move out.

"I suppose we'll be expecting them soon," the taller, elderly man spoke, gray hair and glasses matching the stereotypes.

"Most surely," the heavily clothed being ensured, all coated with a blue robe that was thick with space inside, face almost covered in a brown bamboo topping that seemed to be an umbrella from a high elevation. "I'll take my leave now; thank you," he showed his respectful gratitude.

"No, thank you," the elders answered back. And with that, the being slid open the light brown bamboo door, and stepped outward into the darkened halls passionate with defined wood and closed spaces. The dark, enclosed hallway seemed to remind the figure of home. However, he didn't very well miss it. No, not just yet. It had been much too long since he had gotten outside. He slid the door shut behind him, and began to silently pace his way out. He could hear voices of the two elders counseling with each other, happily, yet seriously. The steps continued to pace themselves towards the corner until he had to turn.

Another figure, much, much younger than that of the one passing by stood against the wooden walls, blatantly listening to their conversation in a guilty eavesdrop that induced no shame. He had bowed his head towards the floor, covering his face with a red cap of some sort, hiding his light brown hair away. He had worn pure white clothing, stainless of sin and whatnot, and hid in the darkness, while he continued to listen to the voices counsel inside. The discussion rang in his ears, and the being knew that the other was nearing, the one about to take his exit, yet he didn't care. There was no use in caring. The creaking footsteps turned the corner and began to walk past the figure. The taller being paced past the younger, younger adult.

The older being began to wonder if he should even be considered an adult, after hearing so many years walk past so easily and slimly, unnoticeably. He had lived far beyond his years. The older walked past with ease, and the two seemed to ignore each other, as if the other had not been there, two separate pictures overlapping each other with unacknowledged pacing and existence. "The family was always curious," the taller one finally spoke as he found himself turning the next corner. The younger boy didn't seem to care; the other presence didn't matter to him, even though it should have. It did to everyone, actually.

The taller, older one found himself out on the porch, watching the soft rains come down on the small, sloped roof above. His footsteps stopped their creaky ancientness on the old, fine wood, for his task had been completed. He could go home now. Yet he didn't want to. Not yet, anyways. He listened to the sound of the splattering rain that randomly fell upon the ground, randomly tapping on the soft road that awaited him. The darkened skies emitted no sun, and painted the sky a deep gray of beauty. No thunder rolled; no lightning scorned. Just rain. Just the tears of paradise coming down slowly and heavenly down, the pouncing noise coming into a roar that whispered lightly into this being's ears. The grassy green had been overturned into a solemn emerald. The air was fresh and cool with a weathered scent that gave the being comfort, an exhilaration of ease. He was deprived of his worries, drained of his anxieties for now, as he watched the rain, watch the growling winds of innocent nature. Only when he returned would he have to tense up once again. It was another reason why he didn't want to go back.

"Bad weather today, huh?" the man asked, nicking the top edge of the circular bamboo hat that seemed to sway in the light winds that seemed paradise to this man who hadn't seen rain in such a long time. He was about to take a step into this heavenly paradise of harvested tears but took one last second to remind himself of where he was, one last breath of preparation before he started a new unstressed journey back to stress. There was nothing left for him to do, except, of course, go back home. The man stared on, not quite ready to take his return and leave. Brown eyes of a swayed past stared out from the bamboo disk, a triangle of brunette hair blocking one eye. They were innocent, no longer curious of the world for he knew everything and everyone. The rain was just another thing he had mastered, but never ceased to amaze him. Then, with that last breath of promise, the Water Council began to start out, and began to walk amongst the rain, wishing for no better day than this.


	113. Chapter 113

The sun shone brightly, unaccompanied by its cloudy companions on this fresh, grassy afternoon. Birds chirruped their melodic song of communication, twitters in one direction and twitters in the next. Trees were far from each other, tall stalks that watched over the greened cemetery meticulously, secretively. The cut, healthy grass was sly, each giving their random small hints of tickle to the larger lumps of gravestone. All remained still, as if time had stopped to recite its tearful memories once more, and let nothing escape its grievous hands but a breeze or two, and the broad sunlight in hopes for a less stern era. The shadows even lit up at the command of the grand clock, once dark with agony and moonlit night, but now bright and cooling to the perspiring soul.

The security of the few surrounding trees and the black rusty gates made the tombstones silent, grave yet refreshed in their own nature. Their pure stone bodies lumped upon the ground heavily, settling as if it were to be there for the rest of eternity. The whole crowd of them would act as an audience of the world, watching with unblinking eyes, and making no sounds with their respectful, knowing gray lips. They would be unmoved, watching the ceremonies of the bright sun and listening to the dark rituals of night. They would stay and watch the first autumn leaf of orange whistle past and remain calm and struck in awe when the first aimless snowfall began. They'd stay, even when the hottest, sizzling sun blazed upon them and set them afire, and even when the cheery blossoms of new life and flower began to spring upon their sides.

Kakori stared over the two gravestones in front of him, the two side by side, almost staring back at him, listening to his silent words. They seemed dark and silent with their shadow, attentive at all times for he was part of the new performance nature had fallen upon him. They were part of the crowd, just like any other pair of graves, but they were different. To him, right now, they stood out to him the most. Innocent words were perfectly carved into their smooth stone, and flowers of a recent gift remained, tickled by the wind at their feet. He had not known the two, yet he cared of the world for them. He had not known a single thing about them, but he knew all of what he needed to know. He knew all of what purpose they served in this whole prophecy that White Cloak had just suddenly seemed to spill upon him and the rest of the Council.

The two had once been human, husband and wife, and both ceased on the same day, same time. Now, they stood still, long dead, knowing now that they couldn't catch eternity; they chose together to immobile themselves in resentment for their mistakes. Kakori sighed with recognition, wishing he had known the two at least a while. They, in a way, were important to him, just as the Minors and the rest of the Council were important to him as well. They played their own role, dead or alive. He looked at the tombstones longer, as if they would tell him something, tell him the meaning of life. Instead, they somewhat spoke of the meaning of death. They had before been breathing, thriving, as large bodies, speaking and smiling and blinking. They had once been walking, laughing, shouting, screaming, lusting; just like any human would. And now – now they were stuffed into their tiny little grave of suffocation. Now they were trapped, trapped inside these small, miniature tombstones, diminished into nothing but a monument people fail to realize as they walk by towards the things they really care about. They dwindled in their seats, failing their purposes of death. Or, was it, in fact, that this was death unraveled?

Was this what it meant to be dead? Did it mean to just stay still for once, to be able to take your last breath and say good-bye, and leave the world with no one thinking of you a year later? Would it mean that you would be wiped from the slates of people's lives and memory just because they had to "move on" for their selfish reasons? Was this what it meant to be dead? Or did it serve a bigger purpose? Did it serve something more to the world than just a tombstone in a soundless grave? Kakori waited. The tombs remained silent. The birds, unknowingly, continued to twitter, and chirp away at their lives, only to realize when they were dead, that no one had cared about them from the start if they didn't care enough to keep them on their slates of life.

"So tell me," Kakori spoke in his ancient voice that sounded perfect like a second decade's syllable. He stood still, as if unable to move, unable to stop staring at the two lessened beings before him that were reduced to nothing more but a stone memory deposited from all their loved one's river of life. They were now unwanted sediment, and unneeded one, for they could do nothing now; they could no longer breathe a second last breath. "What's the big idea?" Kakori asked as he felt the presence near him, the ancient, curved body with crooked arms and legs inch toward him like a tiny, small insect. You could tell that he, too, was beginning to decline into his own tombstone, his own monument that no one would pay respects for more than a day a year, at most. His steps crushed unevenly in the grass, weakly, for he had grown a new respect of nature over his elderly years working in the silent cemetery like this.

The old man neared him; face wrinkled and hidden by a southern straw hat and thick suspenders with the thinnest, most scrawny body ever to remain on the face of the planet. He walked with the wooden cane that was much too smooth from his saggy fingers. Old, pale hands worked their way towards next to the council, who was indeed much older than he, yet still remaining to give the appearance of a twenty year old man, who was knew to the world just as anyone else. In fact, it'd be easy to say that this elderly man, too, was new to the world, for he did not know enough to say he was quite used to it. The junior, compared to Kakori, stood beneath him, and stared at the two tombstones with him before answering his question. He kept his body right with a cane against the ground, his hands folded over the handle delicately, gracefully; his back slouched from a past mistake of a childhood.

"Parents died by some purposeful homicide of a Scholar; their kid became an orphan until he just disappeared one day," the old man rasped, voice hoarse from the years of mistakes he commit to smoke. He sighed with a pity, his exhale even husky from the many cigarettes he had failed to realize were dangerous.

"I see," Kakori answered rather quickly, unlikely to stall like as the elder appearance did. He seemed to hesitate before asking his next question. His thick brown bamboo hat blocked most of his head in enigma, but shrouding him in innocence. His graceful, tall stance let people know he was on the side of the ivory, and not the ebony. "Does he ever -"

Kakori was cut short, as if the elderly man knew his question right before he was to say it. "Yes," he spoke in a wheeze. "Twice a month lately in fact," he added gently. "I suppose something's fallen upon him that conceived more time. He's an adult now, you know." Kakori could sense that this man would begin one of those old-time stories that always put you to sleep at the wrong time. He got himself ready, but even so, listened with respect, careful respect. "I always see him come in here with a wash of guilt over his face, as if he had been pained by someone, and look down on these two graves just like you had been doing with no idea whatsoever of how his parents died. He always got this sympathetic look with his eyes, you know, always gleaming innocently like they once did as a kid." Kakori tried not to sigh. "Ah, I distinctly remember his eyes as he was young. Never changed a bit, that boy. I'm sure he's gone through much harder times, now. He must feel guilty for never visiting in the past. If only he knew the great people they were. Never had a chance, that boy. They'd be proud of him. So handsome, that young man, so kind-looking, too. You'd expect him to be a great man of joy and pride."

"You'd be surprised," Kakori answered solemnly, sensing that the old man had finished his long explanation. "So, when should I be expecting him?" Kakori asked, deciding that he had wasted enough time all ready.

"In a day or two," the old man rasped out in retort. Delicate hands brushed against the fine, polished wood of the old cane. However, it was not as old as he, or Kakori, for that matter.

"Perfect," the council answered. He lifted his head to stare past the cemetery graves that seemed special with significance. He stared off into the deep forest ahead past the blackened, rusted gates and withered, cornered grass. The old man seemed to stare with him, following suit. Kakori's face had been shaded over, darkened with a planned mystery that allowed him to make sure people would pretend he were not there. The trees silently leaned over, exercising their long, tall bodies. His face showed his old features, unemotional, hidden in a high secrecy. His dark-green hair was even darker now, and his innocent eyes of white showed no expression but business. It was as if he were wearing a mask, and he could not smile, or frown in it at all. He could not even stress his skin in a certain way. It was all a planned flow before heading out.

Among the cloudless sky, two birds took off and set on their planned journey, just like the Council had. Their brown, brazen wings fluttered in the sky and sewed upon their own clouds as their chirped away, the sun hot on their backs, comforting them in its warmth. The birds danced past swiftly, and in a second's notice, their shadows fell meaningfully across the well graveyard, and quickly up and down over the two graves that had been paid so much attention to recently. For a second's worth, the chirping shadows with long, extensive wings silhouetted themselves upon overlapping gloves that had been empty for the longest era, no longer worn by their rightful owner. The gloves sat sadly, emptily on the cold, reminiscing stone. The hands lingered over the top depressively, and bowed in respect. They no longer moved; they no longer acted. They were no longer of purpose, and all that was left for them was to wait. Wait until they, too, died with the rest of the world.

PoVS

The humming of electricity sounded like a choir of a million birds in Rick's ear. Among the waters, he waited, waited in the dark moonlight to strike. He had no stealth; he had no target – other than rocks. All of the area was his and his alone. Then, he jumped for it, charged. He struck his arm into the nearby rock, listening to the rushing waters that swayed him so and then –

An explosion. Bits and chunks of rocks of all sizes separated from their parent rock and fell to the bottom of the lake; a large hole remained like someone had gluttony of sediment on the mind. The humming of electricity stopped; the choir of birds remained shut now, and the bright light was put to an end. Why can't I… he thought, not wanting to complete the rest of the sentence in his mind. He stood on the invalid rock now, waiting, watching his hand with its crooked fingers that had been molded over the years to a curve. He gazed upon it, examined it, as if searching deep inside it for something better, something more to him than just what people expected. He sighed in disappointment. His eyes fixated themselves in a sewn, buttoned worry.

From far away, an examiner's point of view, Marissa waited, watched deeply into him, and saw more to him than he did of himself. She sighed her own exasperated sigh, not knowing what to think, or what to do. Marissa, for once, did not sit in the depths of a cragged, uneasy rock, but instead, sat on the flat, dirt surface, not worrying for the dirtying of her clothes. The cold night seemed to wrap around one of her arms, the one that remained unclothed. There was no wind of the night, no breezes to kiss her face affectionately and groom her hair. She, too, was worried. Worried for Rick. Worried about her – and her position on the team. Eric's words of confidence had only lasted temporarily; it was bound to be evanescent, she should've known that from the start. "Why does he train so hard?" she muttered to herself, not sure of what to say to him. She sat with her legs bent and arms wrapped around her for warmth. "Wouldn't a break be so much better?"

Another loud explosion interrupted her thoughts. Another blast of electricity sent flying through the air; another broken rock. The sparks at Rick's arm died away, slowly, definitely. I can't stop, the boy told himself, breath almost out, but not quite to be noticed. There was a slight rising and falling at his chest, an uneasy breathing of some sort. I can't get weaker; not after what I realized. I won't stop trying! He demanded of himself. Another jump; another blast, another crash. It had gone the wrong way once again. He could feel the Half Spirit energy as well as his own stamina dwindle away with every step, with every movement and jump. It was sinking away from him, like a valuable fossil in quicksand out of his reach.

Rick was left there, arm sizzling with sparked blue, his chest heavily beating and his breath heavily panting. Sweat moistened his blonde, spiky protruding hair and vermillion eyes. His mouth decided to leave itself open, too many breaths needed to catch up on. It began to get hot underneath his dark-yellow and black clothes. Even in the cool night. Then, suddenly, he remembered. He remembered what Raikettei told him, reviewed it in his mind so he could remember what to do right, and notice what he had done wrong.

_"So I heard you learned a new technique during the Swamp of Mystery's visit," Raikettei said, walking out towards the veldt-like area and stepping out to the hot grass ablaze with the sun's pouring heat. Raikettei's bald head reflected light in sparks; his serious features did not leave him. With hands stuffed into his pockets so nervously and intensely, he had his back turned to the blonde boy behind him, eyes turned away from him as if in shame and disappointment of having such a Minor counterpart. Rick had begun to wonder if there was something wrong. The two froze, the younger side scared, fearing the fact that if he moved, there would be a disturbance; one that wouldn't go into Raikettei's favor._

_"Yeah," Rick choked out in a sudden, forced voice that he had quickly drawn out to hide the fact he had been zoning away. He remembered the technique. It was perfect, or, at least, in Rick's opinion. However, it took a lot out of him. But he knew that with more practice, he would become legible to do it more times, and be more helpful to the group. That fact excited him; that availability of such an option put motivation through his spine and set it straight for the new road in life._

_"Mind showing it to me?" Raikettei asked, surprising Rick with the question. The Council turned around and showed his face, finally making eye contact with the boy. The teen seemed jumpy in his clothes that seemed brightly lit by the sun, especially his face. Raikettei decided that a tan would do the boy some good. He had a pretty good on all ready, but it could get better. Raikettei was extremely pale, though; he shouldn't have been thinking what he thought. "I suppose it involves your…" Raikettei let his voice trail off. Rick caught the drift._

_"Yeah," he quickly answered, drawn out immediately and much too fast once again. Rick cleared his throat in anxiety. Why was he so coy with this man all the time? Maybe because his appearance was so intimidating; but that wasn't the way to judge a person, Rick knew that. The bright sun above their cloudless heads continued to pounce on them like pumas of a jungle that were sparse of food, all at the same time finding the exact nourishment they had been craving for days._

_"Tell me about it," Raikettei suggested. And Rick swallowed, and forcefully, he accepted._

_Moments later, birds began to chirp and tweet their faked flute choir. The bright sun was soon setting; the cloudless area was full of an orange horizon ready to take the sun in its knowing routine of hands. The birds were orange, too, orange with their faces painted happily, ready to sleep and bid amends. Trees rustled slightly, wishing farewell to the sun until next time, as their green began to fade away along with the grassy blades of the ground, and sink themselves into an orange yellow._

_"I see," Raikettei muttered in realization. He finally acknowledged the problems he had found in Rick's technique. He had seen the flaws of them cleanly and perfectly as if they had come up to him themselves and sunk into him through his even cleaner years. Rick stood before this council, no longer intimidated by him, but now, having found a newfound respect for him, breathed heavily in front of him, over him. His arms, particularly his hands hissed greatly with the sound of a thousand snakes. They smoked white-breath cigarettes that were perfect with camouflage. His arms lay limp at their sides, unable to move, to attack any longer as his vermillion eyes stared up, and watched Raikettei debate the problem secretively in his mind. "You use too much energy in it," Raikettei began._

_Rick seemed confused; he wanted a further explanation. "You'll wear your body out," the council told him, warning him for future use. Raikettei could tell from the look of Rick's face that he wanted a thorough explanation. Quickly, he acquired the message. "Okay, listen, here's what you do," he got straight to it, deciding that he shouldn't torture the boy any longer. Raikettei began to shift into a whole different mode now, a better mode that Rick seemed to favor at the moment. "Limit the injections to three," he instructed first. "Too many will take away your upper hand as well as make you weaker. You don't want to actually give the enemy a better chance of winning after trying to use your attack that should be one of your best." Rick nodded, carefully following along. "For the second part of it, doing it too much can exhaust you as well. Don't go more than fifty times," he suggested._

_"What if I do go over fifty times?" Rick asked, curious of the answer. He wanted to know the consequences just so he could make sure he wouldn't disobey the three-mark and fifty-mark Raikettei had just randomly set up for him, skillfully at that, and carefully, too._

_There was a long pause. It was as if Raikettei didn't want to answer, didn't want to tell Rick the consequences for they were much too grave for a teenager's still innocent ears. But he decided he had to – he owed it to the boy. "Well, then…" he let his voice trail off for a moment. Raikettei tried to decide on whether he should tell him in a light way and make it more comfortable, or tell the boy in a strict, shocking way that would give him the sense that it was important. Then he thought, to heck with it. Both ways would traumatize him, at least somewhat. "You'll die," he finally let out with a serious look. Rick, surprised, just as Raikettei had expected, seemed petrified._

_There was another silence, another longer, deeper, tenser silence. Raikettei didn't like awkward moments. In fact, he despised them. So he was the first to break the silence. "Also, try to tone down the amount of watts you need to charge them. You shouldn't be in a rush while you're using this move," Raikettei instructed. Rick nodded, now over the consequence heard earlier. "It is an absolute last resort. The finale, I mean." Rick understood, and nodded his head once more in an ensuring manner for acknowledgment. Raikettei nodded back. _

_"Yes sir!" Rick had added. He put a stern look over his face and saluted, as if he were in the army, smiling right after boyishly, adorably despite his age._

However, Rick now thought in the cooling waters of the lake, the protruding arc of rocks. I can't manage to go down as many watts as I want. There's no power that way… or am I just being too paranoid? He continued to counsel the problem in his mind, making no progress at all despite the time and effort he put into the decision. Rick wanted to make sure that nothing would go wrong, but had he gone too far to the point where he couldn't even allow himself to use the technique? No, there had to be another way. He'd figure it out. That's what he promised himself. He'll find a way. He didn't work all that pain and his body for nothing.

Marissa continued to watch from a distance, as if waiting for him to get over it and come to her, as if knowing that he would fail, but not thinking that in the slightest way at all. Rick was confusing to her. He either did too much or too little; it was like he was so stressed to do one thing, he'd go overboard and, thinking that he did a perfect job, would realize later on that he made the wrong decision. She sighed, thinking of how charming it was the way he did it, the way he wanted to make everything requested of him more than that of what was asked. She smiled, chuckled to herself lightly, slyly.

Then, watching the two of them from another distance, another presence stepped into the area, and crunched old-memory boots upon the grass. They were black with muscle, leathered with riches, stolen riches. A smirk made its way to the tanned, handsome chin. He thought of the fun. And the luck he had for getting the Minor he had fought before. Now, he knew he was going to win. He knew he was going to make two kills tonight.


	114. Chapter 114

The only three man team sent on the task was beginning to diminish in space. They backed up slowly, more and more as the crowd of white garments surrounded them, the walls of impure, tainted white cornering them slowly out of their space. The three were close together now, trapped in a small, imprisoned circle. Breathable air became sparse. Together, they tried to reach a mental consensus, trying in desperation to compromise with each other. Nothing worked. There would soon be a forced compliance, a result of stressed space, timed limits.

"It's been over half an hour!" Zack complained, backing up slowly into the small human triangle that seemed suffocating, uneasy that the three boys had built. "The real one hasn't showed up yet. Where is he?" he asked, as if the other two boys knew the answer.

"Just shut up," Derek scorned almost immediately with certain automaticity. He had gotten too used to using that line right after Zack spoke. He couldn't help it; it was too often when he complained. He could sense the audience of watching, shaded eyes and faces near them, edge toward them. The team was about to be pushed over the edge.

"He's right, though," Mark had to admit. "We have to hurry and find the real one, before we waste too much energy," he suggested. "It would've been hard enough to fight him with a team of three people like us who had full energy. We all know what he's capable of," Mark explained. Especially Derek. The black-haired boy, at the hearing of the sentence, flashed an image of the Hanayuki's doctor's death. He winced, snapping himself away from the recollection. He took a deep sigh. It was time to get over it – he couldn't spend his life worrying about it.

"But how?" Derek asked. He didn't know; Mark didn't know either, and it was doubtful Zack did. Derek eyed the replicates standing before him. They all seemed to lean closer a little more at the same time, a little more threateningly. Their faces were shadowed in their hood's darkness, their bodies placed in the same way as the first, mimicking him. Their cloaks of faked innocence dribbled from their shoulders, and were heavy on their backs. The moving night above, soon dead, watched before it plummeted to its horizon funeral. "They come out of nowhere, we can't stop them from reproducing in seconds," Derek explained.

Mark seemed to stall. Then, snapping out of his own trance of thought, he began. "I have an idea," Mark said, more calmly this time. The tone of assurance lifted Derek and Zack's spirits a little. The brown-haired boy began to speak. "Zack, take Derek," instructed Mark.

"Yeah," Zack said in compliance. The boy turned to Derek, and began to bring the spiky-haired boy's body closer to his, taking him by the shoulders. Derek, almost immediately, pulled away. An angry scowl of confusion growled under his breath.

"What!?" Derek cried in defiance. He pulled away even more, making sure he created space between him and Zack. "Get off," he demanded.

"Derek," Mark said scornfully. "Just let him. Trust me." A long silence fell upon the team. The eerie coolness of unused lips began to show in the crowd. The moon, slowly bringing itself down into morning, stalled, waited for a reply form the black-haired boy.

After many tense, uncertain seconds, a forced indifference came over Derek. A sudden change in emotion fixated upon his teammates. He looked away from them, as if shamed to say what he was about to say and blatantly muttered, "Fine," in a dull, blunt sigh. He crossed his arms as he always did, his eyes staring off towards the horizon to keep themselves busy. He had accepted reluctantly, yet changed it the best he could into a complete indifference.

"You ready?" Zack asked with common courtesy. The Minor prepared himself, too, feeling the drawn Half Spirit energy rush through his limbs and veins, a new blood that felt more refreshing, more different; it was better than the invisible feeling of blood. It felt tingly almost, cooling as the night.

"Whatever," Derek said, not too meanly this time. He gave up, knowing that there was no way to escape what he was about to go through. His eyes narrowed indistinctively as the grip his crossed arms put on each other strengthened. His evenly tanned body tensed up in every muscle, so much that it ached. At the corner of his eye, Mark prepared himself, drawing his Half Spirit energy as well, and into the tips of his fingers, the palms of his hands, the knuckles of his fists.

Zack sighed, remained silent. He inched closer to Derek's waiting body. He could sense the tone of reluctance pour out of him uneasily. Zack gulped; he didn't know what he was so nervous about. Derek didn't move; he acted as if no one was there. Zack inched more closely, dragging his feet a little to make an approaching noise. Derek gave no reply, no signs of recognition or acknowledgment. Then, deciding that he had stalled enough, took Derek through beneath his shoulders and brought him, slowly and carefully, into the air. A look of an ignored scowl painted on the boy's face. Derek's body was well-built for a seventeen year-old, the only reason Zack found it a bit hard to carry. The two drifted into the air by the help of Zack's arms, and stammered. Derek pretended not to notice. The slight pain in his shoulders would wear away soon, he promised himself.

"Okay," Mark exhaled sharply. Make it fast, Derek pleaded of Mark in his mind, watching from above. Mark closed his eyes and rubbed his two palms together in preparation, readying his body and mind. "Maina Tsuchi: -Minor Earth: - Rifuto no Daichi! –Ground Uplift!-" declared the Earth Minor. A visible wave of silhouetted yellow spread from Mark's feet as he crouched to the ground with force. The circular wave of seismic energy was like any regular wave – it spread, and it dominated with great succession. The many White Cloaks were overtaken, lifted from their feet as the ground beneath them crumbled and jumped upward into random elevations.

Their pattern of mimicry was broken, their fragile miming diminished into nothing more but a wiped out replication. The ground below rumbled unevenly, the lithospheric placing only possible by this Minor. Their silence of meticulous watching broken into many pieces, only few of the crowd remained, the boundaries of the uplifting ground finally reached. The earth, now jagged into small, lifted panels from the ground, dark with their natural brown, failed to completely recover itself, and instead, sunk only a bit back to their origins. The rumbling of below stopped. The attack was over.

The three boys waited, suspensively. Derek lingered in the air, nothing supporting him but a boy who seemed to know little but always seemed to do a lot at the same time. Something at the corner of the black-haired boy's eye caught his attention. Below, the White Cloaks began to reform, each new one growing from an old one that had failed to be dwindled by the force of the ground uplift. They grew from every part of the body: the shoulders, the arms, the stomach, the chest, the leg, even their own heads. It was completely random with these replications that failed to speak, failed the process of communication. The shadows had weathered away their faces, including their mouths, ears, minds of glory that failed to react now, failed to respond correctly.

"Damn it," Mark scowled at his failure. The clones kept rebuilding, jumping weakly, lethargically, on to the uplifted ground, slowly walking downward and growing more clones as they approached Mark, and brought themselves down with uneven footsteps that paced themselves closer like they were on stairs. Their ominous shadows seemed to hesitate, falling over Mark yet failing to do anything of significance. Mark looked up, not quite scared, yet not quite feeling safe either. What would he do?

"Zack, put me down," Derek asked somewhat nicer than he usually spoke. Zack nodded, catching Derek's drift as to not make any noise. He carefully brought the boy down as well as himself, and now, all three found themselves cramped between a circle of enemies. "I got a better idea," Derek suggested. Everyone turned to him, watched him carefully. They put their trust in him. Gathering the required energy, Derek created a dome of thick shadow, a giant layer of loyal shade energy that rose from the ground and masked the three presences in a circular half of an egg. Then, the glowing, humming walls began to push, deviously, greatly. They flattened and weathered away the lifted rocks and ground surrounding them, and wiped away the army of White Cloaks that failed to act, failed to lift their arms from their lethargy hold of body.

The blackish dome remained after the attack, bodies slowly fading away from uselessness. They had been shoved just once, and now, they faded into a nothing reality from which they came from. The shadowy orb that encaged them and hid them away in secrecy continued to contain them. They were protected.

From far away, a figure, a familiar being watched them from the high elevated trees. A hand touched against the bark of a thick, short tree. The fingertips hissed disgustingly with a blistering heat. The cigarette fingers hissed white smoke from which they made contact, a sort of hot breath that the bark was just immune to, and reflected distantly instead. He had fully recovered now; his loss had meant nothing. Just a few days of being tired, that was all. He snickered, thinking of vengeance, thinking of the sweet taste of revenge and the honeyed nectar of pride that would soon fill his stomach and cake the corners of his mouth. So wonderful, he thought. So wonderful. It was time to make his entrance, and he was glad.

The hand lifted from the tree, five visible fingerprints charred onto the thick bark as if it wanted to make a memoir of fingerprints, as if a stamp of approval, a signature of some sort posted by the fun-loving being. The two unequal hands pasted themselves together in a small clap that froze in the middle. Heat hissed from between them, too. The hands were fairly toned, not discolored of any sort. They seemed perfectly human in fact, but they did not belong to anyone human. The fingers each held an attempt, a thought of murder, carrying millions, trillions of them inside their small, tiny little whorls of print. He had a great plan, and saw a great chance. If they just lifted the shadow dome they had built, maybe, just maybe, they could escape the blow. But now, now that they have encased themselves with nothing but air, darkness, and the ground, now that they had trapped themselves for him, there was no chance, not even a sliver of thought for escape. And he enjoyed it. He loved it.

Looking past in a reverse of time as to how much he had waited for this chance, he decided to get right to it. The being had no longer the smallest distant star of patience. It did not even flicker; it was just put out. The hands released themselves. White steam breathed out hotly, heavily in a hiss as they brought themselves to the ground, injecting manipulating energy into the high elevation and connecting them like strings to the lower elevation. A smile couldn't help but edge onward over the face for the thought of the nearing success. "Maguma **Jama, –Igneous Intrusion-" the familiar voice whispered, reckoned in an unassisted declaration. The ground below stirred with change.**

**In the deep darkness that the dome of ebony had built, Yomi Derek speculated with his teammates, and got their opinions of agreement in the blinded dark. "Got it?" he asked with assurance, a pair of dark, narrowed eyes turning equally to Zack and Mark, looking at both of them in the same way. Zack nodded.**

**"Yeah," Mark replied. His voice echoed, bounced off the circular, unseen walls of the cage they had put themselves in, slyly. The air trapped inside was cool, comforting to their perfectly sculpted faces. Along with the darkness, it was refreshing, refreshing to their slight, unnoticed senses. It seemed hard to smile all of a sudden. The darkness remained still, remained undisturbed. Then, the ground beneath them rumbled. They waited expectantly.**

**The team, feeling the cracks from Mark's earlier move under their feet, began to be overtaken by a slight magnitude. Light began to come in from the ground, a bright, hissing light that poured unsightly from the cracks. The light bubbled, the source filling them with liquidized veins. The three were no longer blind. Their hard smiles were now frozen on their faces, unable to come off. They looked around, eyes jotting back and forth in shock, surprise. Their arms no longer moved, and they tried to run, tried to release the dome, but soon, Derek's feet, too, could no longer move, could no longer run. They felt stony, clogged from energy. The hot, bubbling magma continued to pour bright orange light in their faces. The wide room was lit up, and they just stared, scared at it, fearful. A smirk outside continued to grow. The bright, hot lights began to turbine and disrupt into its horrid, banshee scream as the eruptive cracks on the ground burst with flowing lava, and imploded from the asthenosphere. The intrusion of red-hot magma exploded and screeched a horrid, melting shriek that was shrill with danger, and sharp with mockery and sudden appearance. No screams were emitted; the team was soon overtaken by the lava. The hot, hissing of their bodies remained solemn to their frozen ears. Their look of petrifaction remained stuck, like a mask. Hot, bubbling solution continued to eat at their bodies. And they – they could no longer do anything.**

**From outside, the blistering lava could be heard from outside. A smile grew on murderous lips. The walls of the shadow wall faded and broke away into nothingness, and the roaring flames and heat and lava poured out and pooled everywhere like the solution of a spilt glass of beverage. The red hot sensations gave the only being left in the area his own satisfaction. He watched for the bodies from a distance, watched for them carefully as he scanned the hot pool of liquid. The night remained solemn, eerie; not wanting to speak, or think of what it had seen tonight. It wished it had just gone plummeted toward the horizon earlier. It could not die with such a thing on mind, it could not. The being sneered. "Too easy," he commented**

**Then, the individual saw them. Sprawled over the lake of red-hot glower, there they were, lying like stone with helpless, frozen screams over their mouths. They were like statues, lingering there, unable to do anything. They were animated with color, great color that once used to be alive but now, anyone would know that the other half – the half that was inside the lava – was not melted away, and dead. Zack lay on his side, symmetrically cut in half. His eyes were closed, unable to long to open again; unable to long at all. Derek had his hand on a rock, forearm down trapped in the hot liquid, his head and part of his neck emerging from the hot, still sizzling lake. His spiky hair remained perfect, even after his death. His other hand sprawled on a high rock as well, and the rest of his body sunk to its sizzle. Mark had been the worst. He laid face-down, body lying there like a chalked silhouette of a crime scene that had long gone to pass, waiting to be examined by police and detectives. His face was surely diminished and distorted into a gruesome melt. He slowly floated, sickeningly to the shores of the body of hell that had spurted out by purpose.**

**He was so happy, so happy to have them so easily killed when, until – something happened. Something…different. He noted certain differences in their body, slight imperfections, and jotted his stare to the left, to find Zack's body. A low crumbling began to emit from their bodies. A crumbling of…what? Of bone? No, it would just melt and incinerate; it would not crumble. Then, the individual who had caused the triple murder of massacre, not quite manslaughter looked to Derek. He saw his hands remain perfectly still, perfectly not in pain. Shouldn't the heat have melted away their bodies as well? It had been extreme temperatures. There's no way their bodies still remained. Then, he looked to Mark. Slowly, his floating stopped. Slowly, his features began to discolor. Slowly, the tan of the back of his neck and the once beautiful brown set of hair and all his clothes began to turn to the same color, and began to deform into a depressing, fine gray. Their soft skin became solid, hard with difference. Something was definitely wrong! An error of some sort – an overlooked scene, or plotting! But they had been trapped, trapped themselves into their own doom, and encased themselves in that non liberal dome of shadow energy. How could they…?**

**Then, Zack's body began to discolor, too. And so, Derek's followed suit. They all began to crumble more and hiss louder and louder. Derek's perfect spikes of black hair began to weather away itself, and turn gray like a melted monument. His frozen eyes of stare hidden beneath closed eyelids discolored as well, and then, suddenly, horridly, his face cracked, his rough, no longer smooth, and gray, no longer dark with tan and sun, and began to crumble into his own interior. Then, it was clear to the individual what had happened, he just didn't know how. The bodies that lay in the lava – they weren't ****_bodies. _****They, in fact, were stone ****_replicates_**

**Realizing this, he wanted to turn, expecting an attack from the back, a sneak attack. He turned, eyes still widened with shock and alert until – it had been too late. He had taken too long to realize. "Now!" a voice shouted from behind him, the one who had made the ground move intentionally. The voice filled him with alarm. A punch was made to the side of the boy's face. The punch was hard as stone, strong as steel. It pulled him away, and made him wonder if his teeth were missing, bleeding. He pulled himself together, and brought his hand to comfort his jaw. He cried out in agony as the pain seared throughout his head for seconds, even lasting a few minutes and on.**

**"Damn it!" he cried out. "That hurt!" he said blatantly.**

"Obviously," Zack's healthy, unharmed voice commented, appearing from the side of a tree behind the detected enemy.

"You can thank Eric for the inspiration," Mark commented secondly, clenching and unclenching his stony fist that had been layered with a rocky armor. It slowly cracked, and the stone fell to the floor, no longer of any use. Mark opened and closed his fist one more time to check if he could use it well again. The results pleased him. Then, he looked at the enemy expectantly, and waited.

Suddenly, a hand took the boy from the ankle that seemed to reach out from the ground, and shout out, "Sinful Greed!" It was the familiar voice of the Shadow Minor, who thankfully was not dead, and thankfully could still live on. As a sign of his own revenge for his apparent death, Derek brought the ankle into the ground and surprised the being. The opponent's feet began to sink into the ground, his eyes hard on the hand dragging him in, unable to figure out a way to escape it when – just then came another hard punch of stone to his face. The shadow technique had been a diversion to keep the enemy's attention away from the stone punch. Pain seared once again, on the same side of the face, too! The enemy cried out as he tried to prevent himself from falling hard to the floor behind him.

"You," Derek said as he slowly rose from the ground before the new opponent. His arms were crossed meanly, his eyes narrow and unforgiving. A low scowl gave way from his eyes and teeth. A hateful grudge that was miniscule at the moment wanted to break free and grow, and dominate, but it remained encaged, and harmless. "You're behind all this, aren't you?" the black-haired Minor, revived, asked.

"Yeah, you're smart," the lone foe commented in a scorn as he brought a hand to wipe his mouth, as if it would wash away the pain. He smiled, smirked at their attempts to attack him. They were so sneaky, so unexpected that they were amusing!

This guy… Derek thought, keeping his stare close on the boy. He seemed the same age as the Minors, but something about him just stirred Derek. Why does he look so…? He failed to finish the rest of his thought; his train of recollection had overtaken his train of thought. He had a sudden flashback, a sudden image of past events. He remembered a crashing fist. Blood. Pain. He gasped, sharply, unnoticeably. That was good, one could guess; gasping from shock wasn't really Derek's way of doing things. But he just couldn't help it. He didn't expect someone like… like _him_. Then, he thought, he realized. They could be in major trouble. They could die. And he, he could really die this time. Really.


	115. Chapter 115

Derek continued to stare into the enemy, touching him, feeling him with dark, piercing eyes that were now dull with blank-mindedness. He fingered the careful, rock-hard teeth with a gaze full of recognition. He seemed so familiar, characteristics clear and recognizable; his teeth ground together in a playful hate, a skating of frictional white chips. They seemed so ancient, so fictional that they were there, the many features of his face and body matching up perfectly to a lost pinpoint of nostalgia stirring in Derek's mind, teasing his consciousness. He had bright, red-orange hair, shaped exactly like Hanabikai's, as if he had been obsessed with the council. Green, devious eyes seemed to glint and stand out from the dark face, a pair of emerald stars brightened in a masked malevolence. He was Derek's height, Derek's build, like a twin replicate of his body. The two could've been brothers. But Derek spited him, and so the enemy returned. However, the Minor couldn't quite put a finger on his identity, or where and when he knew this boy from. So he just stared, watched, hoping that if he did long enough, something – anything inside him would tell him the anxious answer.

"Derek, you don't have time to doze off!" Mark demanded as he dashed past the hypnotized boy and stirred the action up again. It was a stone blow to the side of the face. Now worn from surprise, the opponent merely stammered, and half-fell to the side. Then, there came another punch. An expectant block reflected. Mark was soon trapped. A smile grew on the scarlet-haired foe. Assistance arrived swiftly. Zack came from behind, brought the opponent's body closer to his in a restraining hug. Then, the two found themselves in midair, one unable to do anything any longer, disabled of his attacks temporarily.

"Looks like I don't have to hold back with you," Zack whispered into the lower boy's ear a bit cheerily. The foe sneered back. "You're real, right?" the Minor smiled. He held his shoulders tighter in a lock of his arms, as if choking the answer out of him.

"Sure am," the opponent answered back, not the least bit worried about what might happen next. It was as if he had the perfect defense in mind, whether he knew Zack's technique or not.

"Well then," Zack began to conclude. "That's great." With an indifferent compliance from the foe, Zack threw the teenage body into the air, above his head. Forming himself into an agile rush, the Minor was able to catch the soaring body while it was still ascending and turn its drift, now turning him and throwing him down instead of up. Zack, left in midair found the perfect chance. A deep breath gained, a concentrated insertion of energy followed. Cheeks puffed up in a powerful bursting encasement. Chest expanded in air, a dangerous splicing of oxygen and energy poured into his cheeks, into his breath as the body plummeted down with no attempt of rescuing himself.

The deep breath poured out, in hurricanes. The chest slowly contracted, and the whistled breath of roaring, shuffling air crashed downward invisibly, thickly. The opponent's body was no lost in a raging mist of reverse eruption; the wind constantly cut the air at the bottom as it made contact with the floor – and the body. All was now lost in a fury of blinding winds and deafening twists. All was white, blurred in agility that was too rapid for eyes, too hasty for feet. It was inescapable; there was nothing that could liberate itself from the prison of bladed currents.

The winds soon put to an impeding end caused by the overuse of time. The hands of clock seemed to speed up in anticipation, numbered eyes of compound life watching the fight, and exciting its soul. Its gears spun horridly, much too quickly for safety. The fight would soon bring to its hype. Zack remained in the air, examining the clearing cloud of white, frothy smoke. It was a gray sky grounded to the floor, unwanted by the society of souls about. And Zack knew that there was one, solitary bird that soared among the gray sky, lost, unmoving now, somewhere just waiting to be found. Had it, too, been banished by society, one could wonder. Or was it his decision? Was it his decision to go along with the cloud of gray and diminished trust for the power and glory? It was surprising how some people considered loneliness to be prowess.

The glassy panes of the broken sky that had confused stars for satellites and clouds for suns soon began to diminish, realizing its horrid mistakes in the past, realizing that it could no longer change it; fantasies stayed fantasies. The puffs of thick air dwindled away and back into the paradise, finally gaining its acceptance. Slowly, a presence was revealed, but much too early. Too early because something was out of balance, not right. A hint of white showed, a faint seeping of dark. It was a dome. A dome, a crowd of white clothed individuals, a rounded wall molded by greedy hands. They were cut; they were horridly bruised, and remained still, a piled grave that could last for centuries. Few replicates faded, diminished from the attack. "He…no way," Zack found himself speechless.

"He… he used the clones… to…" Mark, also finding himself speechless, stared in awe at the dome of bodies, fake bodies. They faded, slowly, one by one. Some underneath remained, some protected. The crowd of white remained.

Then, the small, bodied dome grew red, a hot, stingy light seeping from the small corners and slits of the dome, the space between bodies. "Funka no Aka! –Eruption of Red-!" a voice from inside the barricade of bodies cried out in echoes. The red light grew hotter; the bodies began to sizzle. Then, with a burst of heat and red igneous into the sky like a flaring set of fireworks, the bodies were knocked away, and melted. Their bodies shadowed in the red hot light before them, mindlessly watching, uselessly bathing themselves in the blazing hot lava. They breathed the blaze; they touched the rising magma before their respective deaths, diminishing down to the center as if the lava had eaten them away, their backs darkened from the shadows of the light. Lava soared upward in flares, a fountain of hell. Zack quickly moved out of the way, and fell back to the ground where the monuments were of the lower elevation where the eruption had occurred as well. He swallowed hard, nervous as the red hot liquid from far away even spilled the orange light onto his face, pouring into his eyes handsomely, worrisomely.

"He… he's…" Derek couldn't form a sentence at all. His mind was jumbled, a broken jigsaw puzzle that let the darkness pour in from behind it like a secret that was broken, forced out. Now, letting all of the riches and gossip out, it could not stop, and now, its life was of no use. It was left to die. But Derek wouldn't give up. He would use the tiny, despicable hands that were of bare use to his own mind and mentally, with effort, pick the broken, taken down jigsaws and place them back together, slowly, for it was the only option for him. It was the only option he preferred. It was either give up, or that. And he was hell sure that he wouldn't give up.

At his side, Mark noticed Derek's hyperventilation. He noticed his widened eyes and his worrisome structures. What had happened to his cool-headedness, he wondered. "Derek, you all right?" Mark asked, placing a hand caringly on the boy's shoulder. Carefully, he placed it on him, securely he held him. Derek didn't seem to be there at all; only his bare words that held unsorted syllables and his mind, half his conscious, was there.

Derek unevenly brought a hand to trace over the bandages of colored black, feeling their layered fabric, feeling their foliated alignment. He breathed, once, twice to ensure himself he was alive, as if he had doubts about them. Softly, his fingers stroked the bandages, and strolled downward to find their length. He watched his hand all the while, watched it as if it were being controlled by something else that differed from his will, wide-eyed. He swallowed. Would he be able to go through the night? Derek had to wonder. "Yeah," Derek choked out, finding the first syllable. His voice was choked, forced and sudden. "I'm fine," he told a blatant lie. Mark accepted it, somewhat reluctantly, not knowing what to make of Derek's apparent emotion. He decided to move on, and go to a simpler, more comprehensive thing that he could understand.

The eruption died out. The lava in the air had only lit up the sky for seconds, lit it up in the fake morning for the earth had decided it was too far away; an hour. It had waited too long, it could no longer. However, there was nothing better than the real sunlight; faked halos of lustrous opportunity would be failed to receive recognition and be false of realization. The lava flow died out, the igneous lay there, new rocks created, new land created as well as the lava cooled, hissing, threateningly. The bubbling liquid laid there, like a pool, a pool of existence, of worth. The boy lay in the middle of it all, watching through the rising white smoke he had created himself, waiting in the now broken up ground, weathered away from its formal smoothness.

At the higher elevation, Mark leaned forward, and prepared himself. "We're not done with you!" he cried out, and jumped to the lower elevation. His speed increased; he forced it; even so, he could not defeat Zack's record as the fastest Minor. Mark soon brought a punch to the boy, caught in the enemy's hand once again. Zack appeared behind him, and prepared to bring him up once again for another round. The opponent turned his head, and cocked a smile. A low sneer came with a scowl.

"I'm not going to fall for the same trick twice," he smiled. Then, as if on cue, Zack looked to the guy's arm. He looked to the forearm, the wrist, the wrist that was glowing with a sizzling, molten paste. And the hand – it wasn't there. It just wasn't there, like it had never belonged. Zack uttered a low cry of shock. Then, suddenly, just a bare second later came the hand from the back of the opponent's neck. It began to throttle Zack and take his life into strangulation. The hot, molten hand hissed against his skin, eating it away slowly, taking its time for enjoyment, also causing a deep torture and worry. Zack strained in the hold. He couldn't get the hand off of him. The hand burst from the foe's body and sent Zack flying to the body of a faraway tree.

The Minor landed with a clatter, and the tree's limbs rustled in their own shock. The dust around the area reminded Zack of the Swamp of Mystery, the damp bark digging deep into his smooth back. Molten fingers remained at his neck, closing in on him with great heat and growing pressure. The wrist, or, where the wrist should have been, kept leaking molt, dribbling in a hot-glow of lava. He strained, and growled below his teeth. Then, taking the enclosing hand with his own human one, he pried off the mutated monstrosity, and sent the excuse for a human hand falling to the ground. Zack took new, larger breaths of comfort. He savored every second with enjoyment, every bare millisecond with relief. He breathed out in liberation, feeling a tint of leisure before returning to the reality he still couldn't quite catch on that was normal.

He picked himself up off of the dampened bark. His back slouched helplessly, he continued to take deep breaths, looking at the molten hand dwindle into a pool of lava and a pile of sedimentary, glassy black obsidian. He watched it, as if it were to do something else, just in case. He didn't want to overlook anything any more. Damn, Zack thought in exasperation. The exhilaration he had just gone through was not pleasant, or the least enjoyable. He shrunk his own hand into lava and brought it out in a new place on his body, and could even detach it and form a new one later, the Minor recognized. This guy's crazy; he's like, retarded or something. Even as my title as the fastest Minor that I was granted by Madasora, I still can't probably make any hits if the enemy keeps making moves like that. Damn it!

Zack decided not to think about it. If he thought about it, he'd break down. So he chose not to think. He chose to act; he chose to run after the enemy and get back on that horse. The boy shouted out, and rushed himself into a blur, the fastest blur you'll see of someone this age. His blur was just a smear of color, a daub of presence and scent. Another blur intercepted him and knocked him back to the tree with a harder clash this time. Zack cried out, for he had barely seen the new presence catch up with him. He wondered what exactly had happened, and when he picked up his head, he knew immediately.

Before him stood one of the many replications of White Cloak, the ones that were supposedly slow-minded and slow-motioned. Zack brought an arm to wipe his mouth. The false White Cloak brought his own hand to Zack's neck and began to tighten. The real, more definite strangulation began. Zack strained harder, more. He sharply and frantically waved around for air, for just a tiny, small sucking of oxygen from his desperation. He received none. As a reaction to his despair and hysterical frenzy, the gloved hand tightened more, and took away all his air. Light-headedness began to form.

"Zack!" Mark cried out in worry. He rushed into his own blur. It was not quite as smeared and dirtying as Zack's, but that was not the ivory importance. Mark rushed to Zack's assistance, but he, too, was intercepted by another replicate. He was knocked down to the floor as more formed around him, in just a matter of seconds, too. He cursed his luck. He was now completely surrounded by them. He got himself up from the floor immediately, not to waste any time. He breathed a calming breath, knowing the time limit he was on. He looked around, and tried to sense if any of them around him were the real one. They all looked the same. They all acted the same. They all, in actuality, _were_ the same.

Meanwhile, Zack continued to deepen into his caused hysteria. The replicate pulled out a silver dagger from the depths of nowhere and thrust it towards Zack. The boy reacted quickly, bringing one of his hands to the copy's wrist. It was surprising, really; how strong a clone could be despite the false interpretation of a life form. The stabbing was stalled; it drilled on in dread. The two hands locked each other, shook each other in driving force. None of them won over. They barely moved; they vibrated instead. Then, thinking quickly, Zack brought his foot ready and kicked away the double away from him. The body went zooming into the air, and diminished into thin oxygen. Zack exhaled sharply once again from relief, wiping his forehead from perspiration. He began to breathe heavily again, taking only few valuable seconds to repair himself to his norm. Looks like we're trapped in this mess, Zack referred to the cloned Scholars that kept regenerating. He sighed at the tedious job and sight.

"Looks like they'll be busy for a while," the real enemy, who wasn't fake, said. He turned to the higher elevation, and found Derek, still wide-eyed, staring at him. He had been in the same position as before. He hadn't moved a bit. The opponent smiled, recognizing Derek's face. "I think I heard one of them call you Derek," he shouted upward, making sure the boy heard him. Derek didn't answer, he didn't do anything; he just stared. "Funny; I never took the time to get your name last time. Oh well, this just means there's one left to go." And Derek stared; and didn't stop.

PoVS

The sun was bright; hot in fact. It had been faked, illusionary in this surreal paradise of desert. Despite its surreality, it seemed perfectly normal on the outside. Dunes of sand covered everywhere, swirling in the rising, sucking wind of the imminent black holes, the clear, blue sky of hot, blistering air that sizzled your feet even though you were wearing shoes that didn't conduct heat well. The hot sun ablaze pounding on your shoulders and being carried on your tiresome backs; your perspiration pouring out of you as if you were being strained by motherly hands over a sink. It was too much to take in all at once. Some say you just had to keep telling yourself it wasn't real. That it was just an illusion caused by the Miroku family. How wrong that would be; everything here was real, created just recently, and able to be detonated into a diminish that would never be heard of again at any time, anywhere.

Dylan was feeling this so. He ignored the heat in desperation and pounded his palms against the uneven sand. It was hot to his hands, sizzling against them uncomfortably. His fingers were now boiling hot. They seemed to be red in his eyes. He was not satisfied. Shadows were sparse in the hot, sun-drenched desert. The rays of golden halo possessed every single being, every single soul and speck of fine-grain dust and sand with its heat. It dominated everything, everyone. It brought full-trained warriors and armies to their knees at its presence. It was god to this world, a god that did not do anything but let the world suffer. Dylan's sympathetic hands showed this, without him knowing. The swirling sand became unbearable, darting into people's faces, eyes, noses, mouths. They went inside your clothes, made you itch and heated up your skin. The swirling winds that carried them helped, lifting up your clothes and fluttering them about into an unorganized waver, giving many entrance to sand.

The umpteenth black hole was about to form again, was about to take place. Swirls of black and green began to form in front of Jeremy's worsening condition. Dylan's palms, still on the hot sand, waiting, began to pour out many specks of light. They were each their own little star of their own individual group color, one little wish for every little soul in the world, including adults. They sparkled with beauty, even in the swirling sandstorm that buffeted everyone continuously. The parade of four-sided colors began to surround and swirl in suspense slowly around Dylan. The preparations for the technique were beginning, and Dylan just hoped he would be in time. The Councils watched, Shihou and Lance both watching for a good chance to strike, a perfect chance to attack so they wouldn't interrupt Dylan's process and wouldn't end up killing themselves as well. All waited, in a way, even Jeremy. Not this Jeremy that continually roared and screamed in agonized detestation that one could see now, no. It was the Jeremy inside, the Jeremy that the Council, the Minors _knew_ was in there somewhere, that waited for their success, that waited for its freedom.

"Hanabikai, it's about time," Shintenmaru shouted out over the whorls of sand. The hot sun brightened his rectangular glasses; the roaring winds seemed to try and take them away greedily. "Do you want to -?"

He was cut off early. "Sure," came the hoisted voice of Hanabikai. "I'd like to head him off," he suggested, making sure his voice was loud enough so that Shintenmaru could hear over the battering sandstorm. It was like a new form of pummeling precipitation. "Yeah," he repeated differently.

"All right," Shintenmaru turned to Minoa. "Minoa!" he shouted over the whirling death around them. Their senses were clouded. They could not do anything. The woman whose name was called turned, and nodded. She immediately turned back to the fight, to pay close attention, for she was the only one who could defend the team from the black holes if it got out of hand, out of control. Then, waving a hand backward, an opening lit up. Hanabikai nodded in thanks. Shintenmaru nodded and went back, his hair constantly flying about, as if it were to jump off his head any second like it were a wig.

Hanabikai struggled to walk. The wind ate away the sand at his feet. He almost tripped several, small times going through the portal, that was purely invisible in Minoa's world. It was complicated; why had she done that? Specific reasons. Hanabikai quickly walked out the "door" and headed into the old world that he had loved so much.

He left with a sigh; a final sigh. "When will this day end?" he asked himself


	116. Chapter 116

The room lay still, unmoving, unworried. It had everything it needed; it was happy. It no longer needed anything, it no longer had any pain, any sorrow to weep from. Darkness weathered away corners; a slim light peeked into the room and lit up centers brightly. The monotone heart monitor lay still, mindlessly, soundlessly, not knowing what to do. So it remained, unwanted, not of any necessity any longer; it was put to no use now, and the screen darkened, emitted no shrill beeping of life, emitted no alarms of false message. The bed lay in the middle, still, stuffed between its surroundings, covers torn away from skillful fingers, ruffled in a deserted mess that wrapped around no beating heart, covered over no running blood. The pillow was blank, solitary, of no use anymore. Darkness would eat away the furniture. It'd demolish the bed, the forgotten machines that were no longer necessary of their mechanical use. Now, everything just remained silent. They had always had a purpose; and their last one was to heal and nurture someone else who had their own purpose – but now that their person was gone, their god that kept them busy, happy, occupied, what would they do now? What _could _they do? And with the absence of their god, the paradise shut away; the grounded heaven shut down and diminished into its own useless self.

Fresh footprints upon the ground were cool, refreshing. It was as if you could lean close to them, and listen quietly with cupped ears to the distant, slowly fading clicking of the footsteps that had been there, that one solemn click telling you of a presence that had suddenly gone recently, swiftly. The haven was now dark, left to be forgotten. It had been so deployed in the past, so organized and well planned out. What had happened? Now it lay, uselessly, monotonously. Its good wealth of inner tranquility had been unemployed along with its heavenly nourishment. So they were forced now, forced to gather a new job, a job with a fraction of a so-called salary, a job that required all-day effort; a job one would know as collecting dust. The cloudy pillows began to cake with misrecognition, and wither away into its own pit of a stomach, swallowing itself in a whole.

Then, there was the nightstand. The nightstand that had never really been of much use; nothing had changed for it. Out of all the lost hopes that now lingered about the room like haunting apparitions, thousands of souls coming here to pay their disrespects of the past, one thing, at least, in the fingers of the surface of the nightstand, something sparkled; something glimmered with hope. It was perfect with curves, short and stout like a teapot, but of much more prowess in beauty. It was serene, filled with a grace washing that supported its infatuation-inducing head. It was perfect in every way; a million stars embedded into it, sewn skillfully and beautifully into its solid, crystallized fabric of glass. It was the glassy vase, and in its open, welcoming mouth sprouted a green body, a body that stemmed into the blue petals of a tiny wish, a tiny sign of hope. The flower, Isis. It seemed almost too beautiful, dwelling in such a dark, eerie place where no one dared to step into. However, sometimes, if just a few people were willing to go through the miles of dark, at the end, they would find an eternity of stars, a forever audience of possibility wishes constantly watching you, constantly favoring you.

Then, at the feet of this beautiful lush ornament, came the austerity loss of a petal, a petal that had been clasped by willful hands, a blue piece that had meant a lot, and had been given with a lot of heart. It was still warm from a proposing touch, comforted and easy thanks to the amazing soul who had touched it. It did not seem sad it was separated from the flower's stems; no, this one seemed happy, happy that it was the only one, the only special one to be touched, and be put down by that boy who meant the world to his friends, who didn't even know it yet. The room had now grown cold, no soul left to protect. This is how he would feel… if he hadn't left.

The desired soul of Kahibi Eric walked stumblingly through the orange hallway, one side of him not quite recovered yet. He moved with a grunt, his steps slowed from the fight just a few hours before. His side shot with pain every other step, his tanned, hard-working hand clutching it to suppress the pain. The determined Minor walked with a wince, paced himself more and more with ground teeth to restrain himself, to keep telling himself that the pain was not real; it simply did not matter. Bandagers wrapped around him in several areas. He seemed somewhat lonely without someone to protect as well, and so he was striving after them now. His feet slid more and more through the long hall. Darkness watched him, bet on him to see how long it would take before he collapsed. Many have shreds of the devious dark had lost their bets all ready.

Slowly he paced himself, past a possible turn, knowing somehow exactly where to go, exactly how to get there. He promised himself that the pain would fade away as time passed. It was true, too. His wounds would become more and more minor as he walked and freshened outside. Seconds later, he found himself halfway to the next necessary turn. Eyes caught at him, clawed at him with a smile so suddenly, so immediately that he didn't notice it happening. "You know, you're not fit for moving," a familiar voice spoke out to him. Eric stopped. He made no noise. Silence slowly rebuilt itself.

Eric seemed to hesitate speaking, waiting a while. The gaze of familiarity continued to stare at his back, unable to be pried off, much too strong. "I'm sure you know that that fact is not going to stop me," Eric said friendlily, slightly with an additional chuckle that just slid in their easily, comfortably. "Don't you?" he asked, his arm still clutched at his side. His clothes had been put on forcefully, on unevenly. There had been no time to care for neatness of wardrobe.

"Supposedly," Hanabikai answered back friendlily. His tone was purely suspicious; just by hearing it could not tell you whether or not he was going to send Eric back to his room for his own good, or send him away, for who knows what reason. The two fire elements found themselves vigilant of each other, careful of each other's voices, words, as well as their own. "And just who do you plan on going to when you get out of here; which Minor team are you going after?"

Eric chuckled once more, lightly, innocently, boyishly. "Honestly?" he said calmly, seriously. "I don't know. I haven't quite decided yet," he answered. Hanabikai made no change of facial expression, made no scowl of disapproval, or approval.

"Yes, you do," Hanabikai answered. Eric remained silent, not quite yet confused. It seemed that all emotions were indefinite now. The boy waited for the older to explain. "Jus think," Hanabikai insisted, walking out of the threshold of the hallway at the side. His body shifted. Silence. Nothing but the quiet vibrations of a faraway morning, nothing but the cooling fingers that had invaded inside in an indifferent intrusion of nightly cease. Thoughts seemed unnoticed, empty. "As you do," Hanabikai broke the silence with a crack of voice. "Just make sure you don't push yourself, all right?" Hanabikai said in a close, light demand as he turned and began to walk the other way, finally leaving Eric be with his own, solemn thoughts.

Eric continued to stall, full of thoughts. He sighed, tiredly. It really had been a long night. And there was just a few long hours left to go. Then, moments later, in a new state of mind, he began to walk, having made his decision.

PoVS

The cold night died away. The apparent eternal distance of the sunlight seemed to sparkle from far away into the horizon's limits. Clouds from far away lit up with the bare sight of a luminary body. The clouds still lingered in their pitch-blackness. Stars had not been wiped away yet; the moon was still bright and powerful, just at the edge before falling to through the reality and dying into a half-day's worth of eternity. Holes that punctured the ground remained as memorials for murderous attempt, enemy still alive, still hot with intent.

Daniel, frantically, fearfully looked around. His eyes used to bear the sign of confidence, an emerald determination that was narrow with meager pain, scarce signs of emotion. Now, they froze with fear, slowly turning, slowly scanning with a broad gaze that couldn't diminish, couldn't suck itself back into its norm. Petrifaction remained on his facial features, draining the color from his cheeks, his once warm, soft lips, and milk, smooth skin. His heart beat with certain panic, a panic that protested its now worthless, surplus fright. Where is he? He thought continually, as if the thought would make him feel alive, would make him feel real.

His hand was still wounded from his own proposed stabbing, to rid fear, a plot that didn't work, not even in the least. It still leaked with blood; an injury that he failed to realize could worsen. The palm of his hand was reddened with a deep, dark scarlet, a brick red of time slowly spreading out, slowly strolling down his fingers, caking the tips with red, a red that made confidence and assurance even scarcer that it had been from the start. Where is he? He continued to think, mind completely disregarded, ignorant of the wound he held, the blood that poured out continually that hung at his side, dripping drops of reddened time and scarlet second to the floor, slowly, time-devouringly. He can come from any moment; any time, the boy recognized. One drop of blood from his fingertips, falling to the grass he, too, failed to give recognition to. Where will he come from? Where!? A second drip of blood from his unknowing fingertips, blood smearing down his middle finger. His thoughts dragged him to the edge, poking at him while he was at the end of the plank, arms tied up and eyes blindfolded, his feet tilting downward on the weak point of the wooden board, hoping, praying for dear life, a rescue, an end to this horrid lack of power.

Where is he coming from?! he continued to insist. Where!? The third, the last drop of blood came down, a soft, thinned rain. This one seemed to come down in slow motion, brightened by the ironic night, falling to its betrayal and landing on the soft, finger of a leaf. It reddened the green, painted it horridly, dramatically as it fell; fell smoothly, yet difficultly down the air. Then, with that silent, unheard drip of liquid, the disturbance began; the heart began to beat higher.

The opponent burst from a new hole in the ground, a new puncturing of dirt. He hissed, he screamed in murder and homicide as he snaked through the air swiftly, so fast, it was threatening, so twistingly, that it was just too abnormal to be considered speed, too abnormal to be called a dash. A crooked claw of a hand that had mutated underground slashed at Daniel. The boy dodged to the opposite side, catching the attack just barely. He found himself unable to move, unable to excuse himself with his legs. His eyes widened as he was shocked himself that he was able to even duck to the side. "You can't beat me!" the enemy taunted. "You're too weak; too scared!" tormented he with the half-worm body and gray, discoloration of skin, as well as a grown, mutated eye at the forehead and grown, monstrous claws. He had changed every time he had gone underground, even if a little!

Daniel froze at the insults. That gave the opponent a perfect chance, which he indeed took. He was not one to waste an opportunity, after all. A punch landed perfectly, causing Daniel to stammer to the side. "Daniel!" Kenneth called out to him in desperation. His desperation soon changed into anger. An agitated scowl grew on his face; a narrowing of eyes took place. Drawing his hand back for a sweep, Kenneth cried out. "Damn it!" he shouted as he swept the air before him, releasing a cold, subzero breeze of ice crystals and wind. The glacial gust whipped against the trees and howled at their greenish heads. The opponent, thinking rather swiftly, retreated and arched back into the ground, drilling his way back in underground with his bare claws. He slithered into his solitary hole. The gust of wind was evaded; all was left was the glassy appearance of ice and snow-caked trees, and the frightened Daniel, who failed to think straight, and instead, thought in curves, twists, splices.

Too… too scared… Daniel repeated the words of the opponent's insults in his mind. The words, the syllables, even the letters seemed to bear a meaning, a meaning that circled him, that taunted him continuously just by showing their presence. And Daniel chattered, he was shaken, disturbed and disrupted. From underground, the foe hissed. He burst out of the ground again, and another sweeping, icy gust chased him back underground. Kenneth scowled, knowing his attacks were doing nothing. "Damn it; Daniel!" his brother called his name, "What's wrong with you?"

"Die!" the enemy burst once again from the ground, now more powerful than before, for he had gone underground again and done something special of his. He reeled in punches. Daniel, somewhat conscious dodged the first two barely, backing up ever so slightly. The opponent scowled. The third punch made its way through. Daniel fell to the ground with a clatter of body and bone. The opponent leaned in. Kenneth quickly came to the rescue, a sweep kick following his quick appearance between the enemy and his brother. The foe gave a scowl of retreat as he withdrew into the ground. Now, Kenneth was closer to his brother.

His brother laid, legs sprawled out, eyes closed for he had been clocked, his body against the body of a thick tree, his glasses fading in their light, as well as he was inside. Kenneth leaned over his body with a face tightened with worry. His thin, slender body was noticeably much smaller than Kenneth's own. "Daniel! Daniel!" a frantic chant of Kenneth came. "Wake up! Daniel!" He shook his brother's shoulders, frenetically chanting his name over and over, and as he did, that slight sliver of Daniel's consciousness that lingered about in his mind began to hear it, began to draw closer to those recognition-worthy chants, and half-mindedly began a thought of the past, a time of random picking from the ties and cases of recollection:

_The day was fresh, a bit dull for the Takiato brothers but all the same. Daniel had just been picked on, thrown rocks at; Kenneth, of course, being the protector, had defended him with love, with care. The two were children, Kenneth a mere twelve while Daniel being a childish, shied ten. Their mother had wrapped his head in bandages, so frantically, so quickly as if she had no time to take care of her own children. However, Daniel knew on some level that it was not her fault. She was just too worrisome, too stressed out because she believed she was the reason why her own husband was at war. She always felt that guilt, and Daniel knew. He should have, being the genius that he was._

_Light poured in from the glassy window pane, and Daniel stared out, curiously, wondrously. He knew everything about the sun, the sky, the environment. Life had become a bit blatant, a bit boring once you found out what it scientifically, really was. It didn't become miraculous anymore. It didn't become divine with breathtaking sights like the fractional sunset and the light of a new dawn. Everything had become simple, and as young Daniel pondered on how he had gained so much intelligence from just one year of school, barely, he waited, waited for the perfect chance. He hesitated; he knew that, especially that it wasn't a good habit. But he couldn't help it; Daniel knew he was shied out of his mind. He sighed, turning to the fresh, thin air that was not too humid, not too dry, not too cool and not too hot. It was comforting, and put the small boy at ease._

_Then, the hot sun above seemed to scold at him, stare at him accusingly. The clouds seemed to distort in horrid accusations, and rather reluctantly, Daniel pulled away. He made a habit of biting only his index finger's nail. His tiny, small glasses were slowly sliding down the slope of his nose of norm. He swallowed hard, even nervous to talk to his own brother, who he had grown up with. Then he decided it was enough; he decided to muster up any of the courage he faked and ask._

_Daniel exhaled sharply, hesitantly, doing anything he possibly could to stall. The redhead child took the first step toward the next room. It creaked with a noticeable groan, as if he had hurt the floor, and as if he were guilty, shamed, he pulled away, and swallowed uneasily. Then, he took the next step, more carefully, more secretly. It made a lower, sneakier creaking. Then, a third step, faster this time. A fourth one. A fifth one. Until finally he began to build his own steady pace, one where he did not stall, one where he didn't constantly wait between each single step. The tedious part had been over, and his eyes couldn't seem to peel from the threshold of the hallway. The bright lights of the small, individual house that was lucky to be in fair condition beckoned the boy, supported him in comfort._

_Soon, the boy found himself barely in the next room. His naked feet touched the smooth, wooden ground with ease, feeling the particles he knew so much of at his soles and toes. They seemed to tickle him, play with his small, innocent toes. They were peachy, painted an innocent, patronization-inducing color. They stepped forward once, twice, more uneasily now as if he were just beginning to walk. He bit his bottom lip in indecision. Maybe he should just go back and walk the other way and just forget about the question. Or not. He stumbled unsightly, and stared at his brother's back at the other side of the room. He was so distant, so untouchable. It seemed hard to reach him, when all you really had to do was just go up to him and tap his shoulder once, or, if you preferred, twice. But that kind of thing seemed so hard for Daniel, so uncomfortable. He wondered why, many times in fact. Which is why he had to ask the question now. He couldn't linger in the shadows and hope to be unnoticed forever. He had to get over this. But on the other hand…. Daniel swallowed in vacillation. He faltered; and he knew it. And he hated it, despised it. It was like a curse he had hoped long ago that would wear off but, in fact, it never did. He felt to scowl, but he was too self-conscious to._

_Soon, his other side grew impatient, intolerant of his selfish coyness any longer. It took over him, and just said it, blurted it. "Kenneth nii-san," small Daniel called out from across the room. No answer. "Kenneth nii-san!" Daniel demanded, a normal voice now. No answer. Daniel began to slouch in his own humiliation. He began to turn around and leave in disappointment when just then –_

"_What is it Daniel? I heard you the first time. I was just playing with you," Kenneth's small voice stopped his little brother in his tracks. The redhead boy turned back around with wide eyes. "It took you long enough to say something. You've been standing there for ten minutes, you big goof," he played around with his brother. Daniel seemed hurt. "Did you have something you needed to tell me?" Daniel swallowed hard. This was his chance._

"_Yeah," he choked out in his childish, small voice. "I… I wanted to ask you," he stammered, feeling the wrapped bandages on his head for the recognizable fabric. Kenneth seemed all ears. "Earlier today… how did you…" he was still unsure. "How did you manage to get so confident? So strong?" He felt foolish for asking the question. It just sounded completely incorrect._

_Kenneth seemed to hesitate and think for a while. "Hey, what kind of question is that?" he asked, amused. Daniel choked on his own breath. Kenneth could hear the raspy suffocation of his brother. It made him smile. It always slightly entertained Kenneth whenever his brother acted so coiled up into his ball of uncertainty. "To answer your question, I really don't know." Daniel seemed disappointed. "Where to start, that is." The redhead lifted his head in hopes. "I guess it's because of dad," he explained. "He borrowed all that money from people, all of that just for the sake of mom. Then, he had to go to war because he knew what was right; it was his only method of repaying the people who were just getting tired of him."_

"_How does that influence you at all?" Daniel asked suspiciously with a pout, a pout just asking to get patronized._

"_Because, he cared about mom; he took a risk for something more than his own gain. He borrowed that money from people so that he could pay for mom's surgery. Otherwise, she would've…" Kenneth explained. There was a long, stern pause. Kenneth decided to go on. "It's just that, after he did that, I realized that you had to watch out for that one person you cared about the most. It's not worth having a person that means the most to you if you're not willing to protect that other person. That's why, I'm protecting you. You're the most important one to me," Kenneth turned his head around and faced his brother from across the room, and smiled his large, young smile. Daniel seemed shocked; he blushed on the inside. He was also surprised at the answer, as if he hadn't expected it; he had sometimes believed that Kenneth didn't feel as close to Daniel as he could be, and him saying those words just made all the difference. "By the way, don't tell mom," Kenneth smiled, placing a shushing finger close to his face guarding a large, clean smile. And Daniel smiled back. It was one of the many smiles that he would get from now on._


	117. Chapter 117

The clouds of distant memory and the selection of lightning began to clear; the recollection was ending. Kenneth continued to shake his smaller brother profusively, continually with fingers bare from the cold, body hot with worry and sweat. His weathered voice spoke unclearly; it talked like the crisps of a fire. Kenneth continued to render himself into his own pandemonium, wishing his brother's eyes open, shaking his shoulders and dragging his head back and forth. Daniel was scarce of movement, sparse of heart. Kenneth's fingers continued to dig into his shoulders in panic, not even thinking of the fact that he was hurting his own brother. They seemed to seep into his body, his soul, as if trying to feel that once steady heartbeat, or at least that once pounding hype of heart that was derived from all calmness, the more vibrations he felt, the better. But he couldn't seem to find any. Yet still, Kenneth was not worried for his brother's life; there was no way in life or death could his own brother die so immediately from such a basic move that required no skill. However, that didn't stop him from trying to wake him up. He would indeed die with his unconscious state of mind; Kenneth had no time to waste.

The trees were glazed and frosted with ice and snow; they glimmered brilliantly, excellently in expectant stars that seemed to delude the mind. They were now no longer reaching out for the sky; now they were their own skies, with their own accompanying stars. Their heads – they would be the moon. "Wake up, Daniel! Wake up!" Kenneth's shouts echoed into the many nights that lingered above him, and below the main dying night. The winds whispered a message of gossip, betrayal behind the panicky Minor's back. The shaking continued. "We have no time, Daniel! Do you hear me? We have no time!" And, as if he had heard him all along, the younger boy stirred, his eyes fluttered slightly, like the unready wings of a newborn robin.

Kenneth's grip loosened; Daniel began to breathe, his brother could feel it, feel it coming slowly in, like an intrusion that Kenneth was supporting. But he wasn't quite awake yet. He wasn't quite enough _alive. _The body still seemed reluctant to move. And that made Kenneth's worries jump up again. They really didn't have any time; Daniel, of all people, even in unconsciousness, should know that. "Oh?" the enemy's voice rang in its deviance. It echoed off everything, even the particles in the air; it was that loud. "Has he passed out?"

"Shut up!" Kenneth shouted, getting back up on his feet. He didn't want to, but he gave up anyway, for now. He stood up, he scowled and turned his back on his brother, making sure he stayed close to him in order to accommodate to his needs just in case. He would never completely turn away, but it just didn't feel right, doing it even a little. The cease of night became tense; it was as if time was running out – for both the two Minors, and the moon's shift. Kenneth's icy blue eyes that was filled with his own puzzlement glass steered themselves left and right left and right, his head cocking this way and that; it was a cycle that never stopped. No traces of the enemy showed; a surplus to his insecurity came. Kenneth gulped, now knowing which way to turn, wishing he had eyes on the back of his head. No, caring for Daniel was more important. But… if he turned around… he'd die, too.

"Oh now," the voice boomed in a circle again. "You just stood there… and watched. You couldn't do anything." Kenneth's eyes widened, accompanying his hunger, his thirst for tranquility, his racing panic that was injurious to his chances of achieving his satiation. Clear thinking was meager. Was he right? When he knocked Daniel back and forth, back and forth, was it really true that he could do nothing, that he could not protect him? No, he wouldn't make that mistake now, Kenneth promised himself that. A change of emotion came over him, quickly turning him back to Daniel to care for him. The plan had worked.

Kenneth began to lean down when a rumbling and emergence of ground sprung and began to slither in the air. He could only hear the sounds; his mind had no time to react. His icy blue eyes could catch nothing in their sight; nothing clear came to mind, nothing crystalline. It had happened so swiftly so sparse of time that not even a leaf had the moment of chance to quiver with a slight touch of wind, of the first warm breeze of dawn. The claw of nails came in – Kenneth could not dodge; Daniel was unconscious. Seconds happened, ticked meagerly, reluctantly.

The whole world went black. A dreaded crack of piercing came into place. Nothing else was heard but the cooling air, nothing was seen but the darkness of ebony. And then, everything came into view; a bird of brazen brown wings fluttered, stunned at the sudden noise, the sudden image. The moon lingered downward, unsure of whether or not it should remain and tend to its wants, or continue to revolve, tending to the world's needs. The stars glimmered abundantly in the sky, their embellishment glitz normally rendering others in awe; however, today, they were ignored. Now, they were put to rest, for something else had become more breathtaking, more eye-catching. It was a hand, a newfound emotional hand that had put itself before him, put itself to take in the blade of a nail into his own palm. Alarmed eyes watched, vigilantly, faces drained into an awe of disbelief. Blood indeed dropped. Eyes slowly turned to the new presence, the presence that fell its shadow over everyone, and put them in their places. This dark silhouette lingered over them, a new soul indeed.

Everyone remained still. Everyone watched. And then, the identity was revealed. "No," he said with a heavy breath, exasperated out of his fears. It was a thinning voice, but a strong voice. "You're wrong!" growled Life Minor Daniel in triumph.

"Daniel!" Kenneth called out in shock, stunned by the mere shadow of him, the mere life that had sprung before him. The blue-haired boy was rendered breathless, speechless.

"You're wrong," Daniel repeated in a growl, an exhausted scowl growing over his face at the opponent. The enemy, still shocked in his fearless petrifaction as well was somewhat forced to listen, wide-eyed, listening to the words, the letters, and not their meanings, only on some level did they. "My brother didn't just stand there. He's not the one that didn't do anything and just watched!" Daniel demanded, loudening his voice to a strong growl of detest. He spat at the foe with wordless speech; he resented him for bloodying both of his hands. "He's always been the one who's defending me! So you're wrong; he's not the one that did nothing at all!" Daniel shouted in the enemy's face, disregarding the deep nail that punctured right through his hand, which was being drained of its feeling. "He's the one that did everything!" the Minor declared. "More than you would ever know!"

With that word, Daniel brought his other reddened hand to the enemy's forearm and, like pulling of a band-aid so it would be swift and painless, he drew the hand out of his, the blade of a finger, and cried out from the immense pain. Daniel stammered behind a little; the enemy gasped as if a fish out of water, and drilled uneasily, uncontrollably in an unorganized frenzy back into the ground, recklessly. Seconds passed, bare seconds that left Kenneth remaining speechless, thoughtless. Then, the voice came back. "Are you sure?" it sneered in amusement. It seemed steady, panic-steady. "That means you were always the one who's been scared like a baby," the opponent induced from underground. "Except...you're still that person."

Daniel breathed heavily, wiping his hot, sweaty face with a cold wrist. Beads of perspiration detached from their main necklace and sprinkled over his body and under his clothes, giving him a level of discomfort. "Yes, you may be right," Daniel admitted. "But… that doesn't mean I can't beat you. That doesn't mean I can't win!" he declared, having a change of mind; the energy pulsed throughout him now, confidence stringing through his veins, his arteries, his jugulars, everywhere. "After all," Daniel said, calming his voice yet not calming himself at all, a benefit. As he said these words, he remembered Eric, he remembered that red clothed Minor that never appeared to be much but in actuality was everything the Minors needed. Then, while he spoke those same exact words Eric had said, he seemed to say it in unison with him, struck by recollection, remembering his tired features and his heavy breathing similar to Daniel's condition. **"Confidence isn't the absence of fear; it's when you think that something is more important than fear!" **Daniel declared almost angrily, full of bravery pouring throughout his soul, his blood, seeping through and past his teeth, his glazed eyes.

"Is that so?" the opponent muttered in an obvious smile underground. He wasn't quite persuaded yet.

"I don't have time to talk to you anymore!" Daniel demanded for once, instead of being coy and full of defiance of compliance. "Now, come!" he provoked. He fixed his stance, his eyes were now narrow with determination, his arms all dirtied and tired yet not quite ready to give up yet. It was amazing how someone so thin, so slender could appear now to be so strong, so influential.

"As you wish!" the enemy declared. The body poured from the ground once again. It whirled in a confusing monstrosity, so agile that Kenneth could not catch it with his eye. But could Daniel? In Daniel's eyes, he found the quivering aura that was always one step ahead of the real figure. He ground his teeth with assurance of himself, ensured that he would win, confident that he, the boy who had always hid behind his older brother for protection, would now prevail, because he had been through more now. He had the influence of Eric, of the past, of Eric's fight that motivated him, proved to him that he, too, could be amazing, because of Eric's words, because of his purpose. And Daniel wanted to take after that. Kenneth finally realized that now.

The enemy appeared to be dragon-like slithering so speedily around the air with his now extensive worm half of the body. He growled, opened his mouth widely and abnormally with dribble sliding off of the corner of his beastly mouth. His third eye opened wide, staring accusingly, deathly. The nails glimmered in the dead moonlight and fading stars. The discolored punch came in, missed Daniel by a long shot. Daniel countered, ducking under him and punching the foe right in the cheek. The opponent slithered back in with its wormy, snaking tail of peach insecta. Daniel could hear the slight slithering of body underground, the slimy moving filling him with certain ignored nausea. Eric… he thought. I'm sorry I've always been the one who's been hiding, I'm sorry you had to deal with me like that, even if you didn't know me as well. I'm sure you saw it in me the moment you saw me, I'm sure you saw my coyness. But that's all about to change. That's all about to turn and grow into something else that's much better, that's much more important that you yourself told me, displayed for me. I'll show you that now; I'll prove it to you once and for all!

Daniel fixed his stance again, readying himself in a growl. "Daniel…" Kenneth spoke in a whisper, still filled with awe. He had found that one solitary word only, the name of his brother.

"Kenneth," Daniel interrupted his brother before he could say anything. "I know you like protecting me; you feel as if it's your job. But please, let me fight this battle alone for once. I still need you later," he insisted of him. Kenneth blinked in uncertainty. There was a part of him that kept saying no, don't let him hurt himself, don't let him blind himself, don't let him kill himself! There was a part that screamed no, not in a million years, no! But even so…

"I…I don't know…" Kenneth could only speak so scarcely. "Daniel… I-" Cut off once again.

"Please," Daniel said confidently, asking for permission not as quietly as before anymore, not as timidly anymore. Now, he knew what he wanted, he said it with demand. "What you told me back then… you were right, when I asked you that question that I'm sure you still remember." Kenneth seemed to nod, immediately, as if he, too, had been thinking about that time while he half-cried for Daniel's presence to back, as if his whole past with his smaller brother had repeated over. "I know I can do this. I know I'm strong now. Because I… I have a purpose!" he declared. Kenneth had no idea. "I have someone to care for!" He remembered Eric saying that before, too.

"Then get your ass over here!" the enemy interrupted a time of importance, emerging from the ground with sharper, deeper nails. He hissed demonically and sliced for Daniel. The redhead boy made skillful flips, dodges, and landed a strong kick. It was obvious that he was better now in physical fighting than he had ever been. The opponent, overtaken was forced to sink back into the ground.

"How about it, then?" Daniel asked strongly, fixing his weight. Kenneth watched, wide-eyed, finding himself unable to swallow, unable to breathe, yet somehow still living, still thriving off of the importance of his brother, the importance of his purpose, the purpose that Daniel had now found as well. He realized that now.

"Daniel…" Kenneth repeated his brother's name sympathetically. His face was full of concern; it had not changed in the least. Something about his eyes twinkled the answers now, and those twinkles sent the message to the lips, for the mouth to form defiantly. Then, something sparked. His eyes loosened a bit, his lips unstressed. "I'll be more than happy to support you," he declared.

His brother nodded with strong, independent features. "Thank you," Daniel nodded in slight gratitude. There was more under the surface, but he could only focus on one thing at a time. That thing… was his new purpose. And with that, the dragon-like mutant burst out of the ground like a midair train once again with its slithering, elongated body and whirled in the air, screeching and opening its mouth wide in a dissatisfied hunger that roared with eternity, roared with murder – and the body, it charged with blinded speed.

PoVS

The hot dawn was far away, too far. The cool ground failed to fill with recognition, yet something, something big did. The cool night's clouds began to whisper away, the hot sun was still not quite here. The presence of the moon lingered about, as if not knowing where to go, far away yet so close, the stars blinking and fading and unfading in their own puzzlement, their own confusion. The lush night was beginning to be hushed to sleep, while something more, something else awakened – and not just in nature.

It was a whack to the face that he failed to recognize, he failed to block. His arms were useless, limp, uncaring. His once hard, cool and tough personality was now rendered useless. Ones who had once admired him now stared in sympathy, shock, for he was being overwhelmed, and they would sob inside for him, sob as that first blow to the side of his perfectly tan face knocked his body somewhat to the side, backing him up just a step's worth. Then, it was another one, to the opposite side now, bringing him weakly over there, then here, then there. He was being controlled, manipulated, and something inside him told him that he could not beat it, that he could not defeat it. It was inevitable to him, somewhat. The rock hard fist continued on. The perfect spikes of black hair were now put to no use, were not empty with no meaning. His once promising, piercing dark eyes that struck people in awe were now bent, broken and maimed into an empathetic slouch of sadness, of helplessness. His slight smile that used to spark with the best features was now weathered away by tired, impact marks. That same mouth that used to growl at that idiot, Zack, was no longer tough enough to scowl, no longer in his league. He was not simply overthrown, he had never thought better of what he really was. So why? Why did he seem to be dying now?

Suddenly, memories of continually rising smoke were brought back, eruptions of lava. His perfect features, his strong, well-built arms and shoulders could not defend anymore, as if they had forgotten, as if they, too, thought that they could do nothing, and that they gave up on life. The feet stammered, making a bare effort to stand, a bare effort to remain in norm. Then, there came the strong, direct punch to this once strong, powerful soul's face that sent him flying to the ground. He had not even made the slightest effort of fighting back, which was completely different from him, completely not his style. He would at least try, and would at least dodge obvious attacks like those thrown at him just now. "Aren't you a weak one?" the enemy mocked and ridiculed, spat at the boy who hadn't seemed to change a bit since last time. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to return the feeling of it back in.

The foe walked up to the boy and brought him up by his shirt. He made no restraint effort, he made no reluctance. His eyes were barely open, his perfect features now gone, now put to no use. Eyes would sob, eyes would wrinkle in sympathy. They were now face to careless face, staring into each other, one grinning with criticalness, the other giving a blank glare, one that was no longer his. The enemy scoffed in the boys face, spat at him. "You look familiar," he said with a dark smirk. "Hey…aren't you that kid whose ribs I smashed to bits?" he smiled. The boy gave no answer, no sign of being alive; the only thing that kept the opponent knowing that he was still with him was his open eyes that just glared, helplessly, mindlessly. "Yeah, you are," the opponent whispered heatedly on to his face. The hot breath steamed against the boy's features. "Yeah, Derek was your name, wasn't it? I barely got it the last time."

Simple-mindedly, Derek spoke. He was in a state of peace, where he didn't want to fight back because he believed it'd be useless if he did. He shouldn't get himself more hurt. That guy beat him up bad last time; he'll do it again. This is what he believed. He just said one thing back to the enemy and one thing only. That was, "Don't act like you know me after you just proved you didn't," in a whisper the once promising, striking voice said. The foe's wide smile turned into a serious, darkened frown. Eyes narrowed meanly, belittlingly. The boy disgusted him now. Thoughts of a really bad beat-down raced at contact of eyes. Derek was indifferent; Derek was never indifferent. "Don't try to be smart," he growled into the Minor's face. The hot breath steamed at him, angrily. Derek remained quiet. Another hateful punch made its way to the seventeen year old boy's face. He fell to the ground, just a foot away. He made no sound as he took the impact; he ignored the pain. The enemy began walking again.

He picked him up and began speaking to him again. "You shouldn't talk," he suggested without authority. "I see they fixed your bones," he grinned, looking to the bandages strewn across his chest. Derek made no motion, no resistance. "But, I can undo that again, now can't I?" he chuckled. He drew back a fist; it grew into a rocky texture, black as coal. Then, it crashed into the side of Derek's face, harder than the rest of the punches combined. His body was sent flying, and crashing into the faraway ground. The enemy was left, dissatisfied of the distance, yet still confident he could do so much more. "I see you're still weak!" the opponent cried out. "You were always like that!" he ridiculed. Derek lay, unmoving, waiting for death to take him apart. He was sprawled horridly on the ground like a small boy, a small boy that had been beat up too much and the "in" crowd had left him on the cold, damp, playground asphalt on a rainy day. He just lay in a horrid, twisted position as if he never, ever wanted to live another moment of life again. "I'm not going to go easy on you this time, bastard. This time, I'll kill you; I'll make sure of it," he growled from far away. Derek remained in indifference, his face shaded over from the shade of his own.

"Damn it, what's with this guy?" Zack growled from far away, back to back with Mark as they watched the crowd of White Cloaks surround them and dominate their space. They had been somewhat watching and completely listening to the one sided conversation. Zack knew there was something horribly wrong. "Why is Derek not being himself!? Why the hell isn't he fighting back, damn it?" He groaned in agony. "Derek, what the hell is wrong with you; why are you being so weak now, after you spent all that time training yourself with the absence of Hibiyomi? You're going to get killed! Why are you so –?"

"Zack, Derek can't hear you," Mark said in a low whisper, as if to tell Zack to tone it down a bit. Zack scowled angrily. Mark and Zack knew that Derek was not being himself; he wasn't being so clever as always, so confident, so striking without trying to be. He was completely drained of his personality. He just wasn't him! They wondered what was wrong. Zack clenched a fist impatiently, growling at the obstacles clothed in white in the way. He felt like going on a power outburst. "Zack, calm yourself," he scolded. "Remember, we can't use any data-giving moves. I'm sure Derek has a plan." Zack, reluctantly and forcefully, calmed himself, and unclenched his fist. Although… Mark thought to himself as a solitary bead of sweat trailed itself down the map of his face. He looked to far away, where he saw Derek's body lay limply, carelessly, vulnerably on the floor, three things Derek would never, ever be, even when he was worn out. He always had the greatest amount of stamina, of rigid personality and strength and confidence in him. It doesn't look like it.

"Damn it!" Zack screamed angrily. He leaned in and began punching dearly, unsightly, because whether or not Derek wanted to believe it in the past, Zack was his friend, his rival, and if anything were to ever happen to Derek – Zack would kill. Kill just for the return of him. And Derek, who always made fun of him, knew that on some level, too, and, without realizing it, Derek would jump in front of an attack to protect him. So Zack would do the same, despite their raging conflicts and scowls and growls over each other. They didn't hate each other. They never have. And so, Zack fought for that opportunity, fought through the crowd of impure white for his right.


	118. Chapter 118

The waves of water were calm, unstressed by events that occurred around it, in it. It was the only thing in life that would wash its problems away upon shores and leave them on dry land, to die. It was the only thing that could move on with life, slowly, comfortably. Rocks protruded in the lake, trying to disrupt its flow of life; they failed, for the waters went around the rocks, knowing intellectually that they could not break through it. Not even the slightest sound of struggle in the water could be heard, not even the smallest touch of hardship. It remained in ignorance to everything around it, especially one particular struggle that took place _on _it.

It had begun with a loud explosion of dust, a blistering of pebbles and rock. Water was barely moved, shoved. The gray dust was alive with abnormality, beating with its own heart of resentment, killing on command. It took up a third of the lake, and spewed out a body of a boy onto a faraway rock. It was Kumoyama Rick, who stood in a forced-fixed stance, glowering into the beastly dust that was greasy with hate, drenched in a horrid gray color that sparkled and sifted every time it moved. He breathed heavily, strongly, as if he had forgotten how to, his hands buzzing with certain electric charges, hot smoke emitting from his fingers of past attempt failed. His eyes were tired, his face was tired, and his lungs begged for a second chance inside. He waited, unsure of himself.

Beyond the lake hid Marissa, crumbled up into her own tiny little ball against the body of a tree, hoping that somehow, the dying coolness of the wood would comfort her aching, worrisome back. No level of coolness tranquilized her panic. Hugging herself for certain warmth, because the coolness soon became unbearable, she carefully peered to the lake, watching Rick tire himself out, watching his exhaust and wishing she could do something. But she couldn't. She'd just get in the way… again. This guy, she thought. He just came out of nowhere. Where did he come from; wasn't he the guy from back then? He's just too strong… Marissa thought of doing something, helping Rick, but then again, she couldn't. But she wanted to. And she couldn't. Although she had promised Eric… and she apologized to him, inside her mind. I'm sorry's were everywhere. I just can't Eric, she cried in her thoughts, I just can't.

Back in the lake, Rick contemplated if he should wait, or if he should charge in like a wild animal he tried to restrain himself from being. I need to end this now, but there aren't even bare scratches on him, Rick thought. Think…how do I make an opening? This question would remain unanswered. The dust cloud quivered. It began to retreat, slowly sliding upon the surface of the water, tickling it, playing with it, patronizing it. The sizzling gray smoke began to draw back into two blades of familiarity. They were silver, glimmering in the nonexistent light, feeling powerful, dominative. Their dust crawled back into their shells, hidden away until needed again, revealing the presence of the attacker, the human form.

"It's like you've gotten weaker," the opponent scoffed. The confidence of his victory would not wear off. "Pathetic," he ridiculed. "Where'd that piece of shit of a girl go, too?" Minoshi from Hanayuki muttered. His style had not changed a bit, nor his clothes or facial features. His blade had cracked last time, but somehow, it was repaired, unfortunately. "Probably abandoned you," he suggested.

"Maybe," Rick replied. Behind a certain tree, innocent eyes that just wanted to help widened in shock, disbelief. "But… she's not a piece of shit!" Rick growled angrily in a forced scowl. The widened eyes calmed.

Minoshi scowled. "Don't act tough without your girlfriend," he demanded. His smile had gone to a critical frown in an instant. He stroked the air with one blade; a tail of gray smoke rose from its tip in a whistle. "I made a mistake of not killing you fast last time. That won't happen this time around," Minoshi promised with a certain scowl. The night seemed to creep around closer, protectively around Rick, as if nature itself was worried for this blonde boy's health.

"We'll see about that," Rick scowled back in a spat. Minoshi scowled harder. Rick failed to return. I've got to adjust it, Rick told himself. He fixed his stance on the cragged, uneven rock. He breathed unsteadily, but he didn't care. The night was cool to him; it was being friendly, not too harsh. Something about it told him we would prevail, somehow. The watt input, that is, Rick reminded himself. The dust neared him. It roared, gently, eagerly, deviously as it came closer and closer, closing in on Rick. It was too wide to dodge, to wide to duck into the water and escape; Rick would be slower underwater. So, instead, with inducing shock, Rick stomped over the rock; he was sent flying into the air.

A great static came over the sediment, an electrocution that sparked with the dying night of cease. He found himself in midair now, over the cloud of gray and white man-eating. He had the advantage now. "What!?" Minoshi cried out in surprise. Now was Rick's chance. Sending a thrust of palm into the air, sparks tackled Minoshi's body from far away. He stammered, feeling the spark waves go throughout his body, tingling him and his senses, making him feel rather abnormal. He brought his two swords up in an X to defend himself from the rest of the incoming sparks. Blue specks dotted against their blades. He took a while to adjust, bringing himself back to his norm, and when he brought back those swords to his side, Rick was no longer in midair. "What the hell?" Minoshi said with meager temper. "He's gone! Where did he -"

He was cut off. Rick appeared behind him with glowing hands that electrified the night with their glowing electricity. They sparked a bit, dangerously. A hand pat Minoshi's back without the victim realizing it. He cried out in shock, surprise. Rick smirked. "You're over," he declared. And Minoshi just stared, unable to think, waiting for the inevitable attack.

PoVS

Under the cease of night, Walter and Teresa moved slightly throughout the grass, the trees, sifting themselves with a satisfactory level of meticulousness. The grass tickled their feet, trickled with their ancient moist against their forelegs as they walked with certain ignorance for nature. Birds chirped their songs of lullaby, some for awakening, some for sleep; it was hard to tell which one to use at this time of the night. Even so, they sang, san their hearts out. They felt nothing, only the slight ease of possibility that may occur. They were extremely watchful; looking here and there. It seemed that, you had to be as careful as you were when you were walking as when you turned your head just to look at something. You had to sleuth it, too, not just take a glance. It was a very calm night, a very fragile one, too, easily broken and disturbed at any moment.

They walked, walked in the moist air, walked in the fragile stench of nature and wet grass. Their steps failed to make any noise, failed to give away their presence. It was an uneasy beginning of morning; it wasn't even morning! It had barely reached the eight minutes requirement of dawn. They found themselves just stuck; stuck in the interface between nights and light, just caught up in the half-time where barely anyone was awake to experience. Most eyes were asleep; most eyes should be asleep. But they weren't. Being a Minor meant that, any many more things, too.

Then, there was a sifting. A blur, a fragment of a movement that trickled the grass. It rushed throughout the air, the land, shot at the two from behind. They seemed to not notice, they seemed to not be able to notice until it was too late. Then, all of a sudden, as if he had seen it all along, Walter turned and caught the wrist, the wrist holding the dagger of bone and the white clothed hand and arm in his own. Teresa turned around in shock, gasped at White Cloak's sight. "Teresa!" Walter had called out to her for her attention.

"Walter!" she cried back. She seemed lost, not knowing what to do. Then, with a thrust of fist, Walter crushed his hand into White Cloak's left ribcage. It seemed to dig in, like the man was made of jell-o. He had not said a word, not a single syllable. It was rather strange, and Walter knew why. He wasn't a fool. The cool night began to hype up, if you could even still call it a night at the faintness of stars and moon. It seemed that the curtain of jet black sky got bored of the fights; it no longer wanted to see them anymore.

It was a punch to the heart that induced spewing of energy from the body. Walter scowled and kept his fist there, keeping a lock on White Cloak's arm. "Teresa! Put a force field!" he demanded. Teresa blinked, as if she were confused. "Just do it! Now! Force field!" he demanded in hype. Teresa, still unsure but caught up in the panic, did as she was told. A force field wrapped around White Cloak, purple wisps of energy surrounding him, taking him in with the lack of oxygen. Then, as Walter pulled away from it, just a second later came the huge explosion of red and orange and white and gray. The body had blown up; it was a mere trap, and Walter had seen right through it. "Behind me!" Walter then demanded. Teresa caught on.

The girl placed her right arm to her left waist, as if she were to unsheathe a sword. She began to run for the place behind Walter, as if he had tagged her. She brought out the "sheathe" and out came the sword, the blade that Lance had taught her how to build. It glowed eerily, the slight hum of its circling motion giving her confidence in her ears, her perfect violet eyes. Teresa jumped, finding another White Cloak before her, and sliced. The energy of the force-field substance cut right through him, and let him fade away into nothing but thin air. It was another trap; both Teresa and Walter had failed to realize it! Eyes widened in shock; the fragile night was officially broken, there was no silence even if nothing was spoken, there was no calmness even if there was no panic. Nothing would remain normal for a time.

Then, there was an explosion; it wasn't from another cloning this time. It was… something else. A loud crack and echo lulled the infant birds awake, no longer needed of the beautiful song of dawn sung by their parents. The crack pierced the night; a bright light and lush puffs of flame emitted from far away. Walter stared at it, being that it was directly to his left, watching it with a widened, brown eye that was filled with shock; he had not expected it. Then, the flames began to burst, they began to run and streak towards Walter's direction, and he was still taking the recoil of the first explosion. Teresa could do nothing – she was too far away. She could only turn her head ever so slightly in the miniscule amount of time given.

All eyes widened, and then, suddenly, as Walter waited for the bursting flames to char his skin, they rushed right past him, missed him by a long shot. Time sped up again. Walter's recoil finished; Teresa turned back and readied herself. The river of flame had missed Walter… why? Walter thought. It missed? No, it didn't aim for me. It aimed for… Walter looked to the right, where the streaking fire had gone. That was it. He knew now.

The horizontal flare of blaze had rushed through the ground only to pierce a set of large, wooden crossbows that were as big as cannons, and aimed at Walter. Now, their wooden bodies were burning to a crisp and their silver arrows were beginning to char, melt. Walter had actually been saved. But by who? Well, who else? A figure stepped out from the shadows of the trees. It was dark, shaded over, but soon, the distant lights of the faraway star embellishments gazed upon this soul and lit his presence up, so that others could see it as well. It was none other that Kahibi Eric, always rescuing lives of those close to him whether they liked it or not. However, he seemed to strain somewhat, seemed at unease, not his regular self. Walter wondered what was wrong. "Eric-kun!" Teresa called out from far away, her eyes not quite down broadening over her face.

"Eric!?" Walter repeated, louder and in a questionable tone. He almost spat at Eric, as if he detested him. His eyes narrowed, a scowl washed his face. Eric was so close, just next to Walter's own presence. "What're you doing here?" the Minor asked him, suspicious. He couldn't be too sure.

"Saving your life," Eric said with a chuckle of friendliness. Then, pain shot through his side like an immense bullet had just sewn a wound shut, making it, in actuality, worse. He called out in a strain, bringing a hand to clutch his side as he stammered backward. He coughed in agony; you could see the pain take over him as he winced, trying to wash it away mentally. It took a while for it too work. It was obvious Eric shouldn't have been here.

"You shouldn't be out here," Walter scowled. "You should be back there, resting."

"That's not really your decision, now is it?" Eric laughed slightly. He was able to force a smile out now, yet his hand still clutched and shivered at his side.

Walter sneered. "Give me a break," he snapped rather unkindly. "I'm just looking after _you_ for once," he pointed out. "You're too busy caring about others you fail to recognize your own wants and needs," he suggested in front of Eric. The cold night ruffled as they spoke. Teresa was on watch.

The Minor seemed to sign before him. Walter was immediately piqued. "You still don't get it, do you?" Eric asked Walter. The Water Minor made no emotion on his face, made no change of thought. Was he simply ignorant, or was it because of something more, something he wouldn't tell Eric, or anyone, for that matter? "Protecting others and caring for them _is _my want; it _is _my need," he explained. Walter seemed unimpressed. He just kept the scowl on his face, full of disbelief, full of the least care one could have for Eric's purpose, for that foolish purpose. Walter even thought of it as pathetic, really.

"Interesting," a new voice came out. It wasn't Teresa. It wasn't Eric. It wasn't Walter. It wasn't any Minor, any Council. "So there are more of you coming in. How…exciting." The presence seemed to have lost the last word to the sentence just now, as he stepped out from the darkness and into the golden rays of no sunlight. Impurely clothed in white with an eerie hood that shaded identity, White Cloak came from the back of the skinniest tree, as if just by going past it would take you to another world, this world.

"White Cloak!" Walter scowled. Teresa came to the team's side. The three stood side by side now, watching the white garmented being before them, all powerful and such, not showing any sign of using his power, though, however, they could feel the strong stench of bloodlust and murder that reeked of hellish power before them. It lingered all around their opponent, dark and evil, ready to strike at any moment, which made the team somewhat coy, somewhat timid to know that any moment, any time they could be struck at with the most powerful move they couldn't even think of or imagine and just die. After all, what could three teenagers do? More than you know. "You!" Walter growled at him. He remembered his encounter from before back in the main part of the dimension, where White Cloak had tried to recruit him, an obvious answer of "no" coming back at his way. What would he try now? Why did he seem to pop up everywhere Walter went!? It agonized Walter, thinking of that.

The foe with the raspy voice laughed, as if amused by their fragile presences. "Walter-chan," he patronized. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" He sucked in a sharp breath, and so did Walter, who did one of hate.

"You bastard!" Walter spat out from detestation. Words could not begin to describe Walter's feelings, feelings of hate and hell for White Cloak. Then, as if on cue to his insult, flashing noir images came into Walter's mind again, memories of that time in the main part of the dimension, memories of White Cloak's hand over his forehead, inducing the intrusion of murder, of the pain in society. They flashed before him like quick slides that were malfunctioning in speed, a lever that had been pushed much too far out of its boundaries. The boy stammered, bringing a hand to his eyes as if he had a major headache. He backed up on cue, straining to breathe, straining to think for the images had interfered with his mind, his processing. He cursed Walter ever so barely without words in his mind. Memories began to take over his mind, dominate his body.

"Walter!" Teresa's voice called out to him, voice fuzzy and crackling as if electronically, through a phone. He was beginning to lose himself, he could feel it. And White Cloak, as if knowing this, chuckled.

"White Cloak!" Walter ignored Teresa in a growl. "Just what is it!? What do you want from us!? From anything!?" he demanded loudly, darkly. His hand remained at the side of his face, clutching, holding.

"Simply one thing," White Cloak answered. "Utopia."

"Utopia?" Teresa answered. "I don't buy it!" she screamed. Walter began to strain again, at her side. The word "utopia" kept repeating in his mind. It was like an infection! The images kept popping up again and images, words of past times began to speak again:

_"__Your desperate and blistered hands are not wet enough to wash away the pain that is your past. If it is wetter you must become, then go, swim in the seas of revenge and lakes of power. Drain yourself from all things that are unimportant, act as if they were. Become filled until you are bursting with hate, anger, revenge, a good feeling of success, for success is all you need. Drown out your fears, everything you know and cared about for your vengeance. Nothing else matters."_

_"You are weak; I am stronger than you," _he remembered his uncle saying. _"You need to know only one thing and one thing only, Walter. I am stronger than you. Know your place in this world. We are who we are, and the stronger dominate. I dominate you. I control you. I own you." _He remembered those words, remembered them and him, lying there, watching, being forced to listen as helpless tears flooded out, caked his cheeks, moistened his lips. That's when he basically decided that he would not let his cheeks, his mouth moisten any longer. He would no longer let his eyes become glassy. He would not cry anymore.

_"Why should you care about where your life's leading? You're still young. Even when you're old like me, you don't know where you're life's leading. So why should you care? Why should I care? It's pointless," _Walter remembered his own father say those words to him, that old drunk bastard, always holding that damned beer bottle that was always musky with its brownish – glass color of sand and dark black. His face was horridly distorted, sad and depressed, as if he had forgotten how to shed a tear for none lay there on his face; that wrinkled face with brown hair that resembled Walter so much. Would Walter become like him, and believe what he said? No, it was too late. He all ready had become like him.

_"You are weak. Why are you faltering? Focus on one thing and one thing only. Do not lose sight of your goal, you foolish, foolish boy. You're lucky you have me to keep you alive. You're lucky you have me to keep you on the right track. You're an idiot, you're useless without me. So focus on one thing and one thing only. To kill Void Core. Kill all of them. Only then will you find peace. Don't get near Eric; don't get near any of those damned Minors! You're only a Minor for one purpose – to gain power, power to kill! You don't need bonds, you don't need friends! You don't have anyone to care for so there's no point! There's just no point! You have no loved ones in this world to succeed for; only you. And even then, you still wish you were dead…" _Words of his other half that seemed to be shrouded in green wisps of energy whenever he needed it in his mind kept speaking to him like this.

Back to reality, Walter cried out, agonized by his past, agonized by the influential beings that kept poking at him, stabbing him with faults, with losses. White Cloak knew it was taking affect. And on some level, Teresa and Eric knew it, too. This was the beginning. The beginning where all hell broke loose and nothing would be the same again. Now, everything began. Everything that would change…everything.


	119. Chapter 119

The memories recuperated, a storm of fallen stars coming back at their owner, their sky and getting their revenge, shuffling themselves in a stuffing that overwhelmed, exceeded in exaggeration far beyond concern, beyond requirement. It had begun with a single tear of sky, a speck of memory, and that memory wound to another memory, and that one led to another, then another, until the many recollections strung and wound themselves into a resistant reminiscence. Walter strained, extreme mental pain eating at him, chewing at his emotions, his soul ever since his encounter with White Cloak. He cried out like the cease of night to morning, despaired wails tight with certain wrenching of voice, demise of heart and spirit he wished would end. But it never did.

"Walter!" Teresa declared his name to snap him from his agony. It was no use; he continued to clutch his eye as if he had been stabbed there, wincing horridly as if hiding his eyes from danger, hiding his vision so he wouldn't see, touch, feel the pain anymore for it stung too much, it hurt too much. Teresa locked herself in a worry, trying to support him, looking at unease as if she did not know how, or where to start. She just stood over him, watching him in his pain as he lost his readied stance. White Cloak watched, somewhat amused. Eric did the same as Teresa, watching for an opportunity to help. Something's wrong… Teresa noticed. Walter continued to stammer, too deep in pain to speak, to move normally.

"Walter, are you…" Eric let his voice trail off. It seemed as if Eric's voice brought Walter somewhat back, back up on his well-rooted feet. Walter stared up, up at White Cloak accusingly, painfully as he shuddered his left eye open, the other half of his face engulfed in a defensive hand. His now only eye seemed to break beneath bounds, quivering unsightly, uncontrollably, as if a twitch of abnormality, a habit of hermit. White Cloak smiled unevenly, darkly and secretively beneath his shadowy mask of hood and white. How Walter began to despise that white, that poor excuse for norm, for purity; they were all lies, lies! Then, he winced again, bent in pain. That shuddering closed eyelid let out nothing but a single tear, a tear of strain, of difficulty, as if showing that the insides of him had given up; they now allowed everything that went against him intervene and dominate him, call him their own. His ground teeth chattered with no noise, no cold. "Walter…" Eric spoke his name with concern. He watched his teammate's tear slide slowly down his cheek and seemed to stay there, solitary, alone, just like Walter had been, just like Walter had willfully proposed himself to be, according to him.

"Eric…" Walter spoke through clenched teeth, a strained voice. He seeped a deep, sharp breath inside It was jarring to hear, fragile to ears. It was obvious all ready that he was in deep pain, agony of mental sort. Eric and Teresa just wondered what, but even so, the boy's name who he had called out to leaned in closer, as if he readied himself to help the other. "I…" Walter began, his words unclear, cracking like unstable lightning from his non thundering voice. "I… you can't help me with my problems… you can't; I'm sorry, but you just can't," he stammered out uncontrollably, skin and outline twitching everywhere, teeth and voice shuddering, face distorting in unease and pain. Eric stared, surprised, a shock that would later become defiance, disbelief.

"Walter…" the red clothed Minor said sympathetically. His face became a wanted empathy. He just stood there, no longer looking ready to help the Minor by him, so he stared, stared sadly.

Before them, White Cloak began to drag attention. Looks like the images are finally getting to him, the raspy-voiced being thought. "Walter…" White Cloak rasped to him beckoningly, creepily, as if calling out to him in a sign of false help that seemed blatant and typical to the Minors surrounding Walter, as if protectively, parent-likely. Teresa and Eric turned to White Cloak, staring meanly, crossly, unforgivingly as if they knew what he had done to their teammate. "You did not believe me when I said that being with the Minors will gain you nothing. You did not believe me when I told you that you were weak," White Cloak began in a scrape, his voice grated unevenly, crookedly. "That's why… I will prove to you now how strong I am."

"Not a chance!" Teresa snapped angrily in a growl. White Cloak did not seem to falter. "Not with us working as a team, you can't," she said, scowling.

"Oh, really?" White Cloak begged to differ. He shifted ever so slightly, so evilly effervescently, that it seemed to make Teresa nervous, worried. "You've changed quite a bit," he referred to Teresa. Teresa made a sneer, as if to say that White Cloak had not even known her at all from the beginning. "I can tell that your confidence is fresh, new," White Cloak admitted, staring deeply into the girl's eyes. The Minor soon felt invaded, revealed to the world; there was nothing left of her now. "It's almost like a flower of dawned spring, that hasn't even blossomed yet…" he said with a raspy, quiet passion. "However," his voice turned stern. "All flowers wither away one time or another."

Teresa stared, blanked out for just seconds only. "No!" Eric jumped in. "Not if you believe it doesn't!" Teresa snapped out of her daze, stared at Eric and his angry scowl of confidence, determination. His flower had never withered away, she realized. It had been there in cold, hot, heaven and hell. It never ceased to amaze her. White Cloak seemed a bit dazzled too, at how he was so quickly interrupted by Eric's charging voice. It took lots of guts to stand up to this secretive enemy.

"A quite strong group of children, aren't you?" White Cloak croaked. "Well, then. Let's see how well you do on the battlefield," he proposed. Walter seemed to strain, trying to say something, but couldn't just yet. His voice was still lost, his tongue was still misplaced.

"Go," Teresa called to Eric, dragging his attention from the Minor who was still in pain. "I got your back," she assured in a cross, friendly motion. She nodded to him; he nodded back. Their eyes seemed to twinkle at each other, filling them with sureness, certainty. Walter whispered something, something under his breath. His voice was bare; no one could hear him.

"Go!" White Cloak declared in his chafed language of tongue, leaning forward just barely as he dispersed into nothing but an invisible blur. He was faster than Zack. His presence disappeared and slipped out of sight in an instant. Eric caught the movement in the corner of his eye, crying out as he, too, blurred into his own agility. Teresa kept to her promise, holding her hands out and crossing her eyes deeply, strongly. She gave a low scowl; her hands began to glow eerily with their purple light of night. The slight hum of her energy told watchers that she meant business.

The two dashes met each other at a point, clashing each other with different attacks. Eric, getting the first chance began to strike flaming fist after flaming fist. They all missed, dodged easily, skillfully by White Cloak. Then, it was a flaming kick of spin, also dodged. When she saw her chance, Teresa smacked the ground beneath her feet with a luminous hand, rising the ground with uplift and erupting the earth, slowly; she could not do it as well as Mark. The two fighters jumped away, for the ground had separated them. "That Eric guy…" Walter's voice suddenly began to rasp just as eagerly, crookedly as White Cloak. Teresa seemed surprised to hear his voice so well for the time that had passed. Meanwhile, Eric fell back to the ground, not knowing, or hearing their conversation, all eyes on White Cloak, all alarm focused on that one man.

Teresa jerked her head, eyes wide with shock. She peered to Walter's bent position towards the floor; he had continued clutching his eyes, for his pain did not falter a bit. He still strained, his voice and face was still distorted in despair, despair of the night, of the past sunset that he thought he had reached, but turned out that he had only stared that wishfully, and had not actually got up to it, and felt it. Everything was falling apart for him, just because of one realization that led to another and another. Eric continued fighting beyond their eyes. Walter continued to speak, straining his syllables, stressing them at the wrong time. "He really helped you…?"

"No, not just that," Teresa admitted. She stared off to the guy, who was fighting despite his weakened condition from his encounter with Hibiyomi. There were many flaws with his fighting style at the moment; White Cloak just seemed to be going easy on him. "He saved me; he saved my life, in an emotional way. Maybe he could save yours, too," Teresa suggested. She stared with nothing but awe at him as he continued to fight. He had lots of heart. "You should give him a chance," Teresa said a bit too scornfully.

The images in Walter's mind cued themselves once again, flashing in noir, speeding in the ultimate slideshow of pain, blood, hate, murder, suicide. The random faces of people he didn't know and the pain they went through and expressed with their distortion of faces – he felt it, he felt it all. He experienced it all, the sadness, the pain, the hurt, and the tears that he wanted to shed. It was all too much; and he hadn't even gone through the things that he saw, that he took from image.

He made complete effort not to stumble mentally. "No," Walter denied Eric's abilities. "Nothing can help me," he told himself, as well as Teresa. "Not now, anyways." He continued to strain himself over the floor, just inches from the cool surface of dying night and rising morning, the surface of interface which he had all ready been netted in perfectly due to the hands of time, the old, ancient, immortal fingers that sewed the web of numbers and minutes and seconds and days and events – it was the most important thing to us. But now, it seemed so confusing, so wrong. Everything seemed wrong. The world seemed wrong, through Walter's eyes. It was a change of perspective that caused him to think that, from the images. They were beginning to make sense, too.

"You shouldn't be so sure," Teresa scorned. Teresa continued to watch Eric.

He fought, powerfully, meaningfully. He dodged few attacks, for White Cloak made few attempts. "You're as weak as Walter," the foe rasped in a crooked voice. "However, there's something about you," he continued to croak. Eric charged a flaming fist. White Cloak caught the punch at its wrist; the flames sizzled out and began to smoke with white frothiness. "And I don't like it," he hissed sternly. He reeled in a punch. He charged; Eric could not escape. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Walter forced himself between the two, and charged a fist into White Cloak's body without him noticing. It had happened to fast, and his eyes still showed signs of mental despair he hadn't completely finished going through. However, it had recovered somewhat. The fist against White Cloaks body began to fizz, hiss with water, until the liquid burst and sent him soaring and crashing to the next tree.

"Why should you be the one to only get at him?" he turned to Eric crossly and coughed meagerly, falling to his knees. It hurt to breathe; it hurt to speak. It hurt even to move, but his condition was slowly getting better, and he didn't know why. All he knew was that he was feeling better, getting better. That was the only thing that mattered now. Eric quickly tended to his need. Walter brushed him off. Eric would not stop trying. And so this cycle would continue for the rest of their Minored lives.

"Are you defying the truth now?" White Cloak lifted himself from the wooden trees. Their bodies crumbled under his lifting weight. "No, matter," he croaked. "I have told you enough; you will come to realization soon," he promised. Then, the body faded; he was out of sight now. No presence seemed to be there, yet you could feel it there, sense it. It was around there, lingering around you, spying on you and you knew it, you just didn't know where he was. So you look around, confused, filled to your brim with your own paranoia that seemed to deteriorate you of your capabilities, your clear-thinking that used to save your life.

"Where are you?" Walter said, turning his head this way and that, his eyes jotting to every side, every corner he could see and sleuth and examine and take into his own eyeing hands. Everything seemed normal; nothing seemed out of place. So where was he?

_"Inside your head…" _a voice rang on, a deep godly yet devilish voice. It was demonic, it was holy, it was of great command yet a horrid influence. It wasn't even neutral! So what was it? Walter strained, bringing a careful hand to his head, feeling a searing headache take over him. He cried out in pain. Voices of Eric's assistance called out to him, mouth-less, wordless sentences. The images began again. Walter faltered.

"Walter!" Eric cried out. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm-I'm good," he stammered. His voice was unsteady, untrue. Eric knew he was lying, but he really, really didn't have enough time to care for him. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, White Cloak rushed from the shadows and began striking at Walter while he was weak, with a long, protruding blade of bone from his skin. He cried out, overtaken by the sudden event. The Minors could only watch in their shock. Walter was forced to back up; it was the only way he could dodge. Teresa and Eric called out to him at the same time. It was no use. Somewhat blinded, Walter seemed to search around, feel for presences. He began to catch on, but would he be fast enough?

"I don't have patience for you anymore!" White Cloak called out to him as he continued to slice at him. Walter dodged each one barely.

"Damn it!" Eric called out to him. He dashed to an agile blur. He made a kick that just nicked White Cloak as the Minor made his way between Walter and him. His kick shot out flaming sparks; White Cloak had dodged with a clothed forearm. A look of annoyance spread beneath that shadowy hood. Then, Eric cried out, out of pain. White Cloak had not even touched him. It was the pain of his last battle with the Council member kicking in. He really shouldn't have been fighting, or walking, for that matter. One could wonder why Hanabikai let him off the hook. It was a secret, all right.

"Don't get in the way!" White Cloak called out as he brought a barely charred arm and knocked Eric in the head. The Minor was sent rolling upon the ground, rolling to a distance. White Cloak resumed his string of attacks.

"Eric!" Teresa called out to him. She rushed to his side, almost immediately, trying to examine his condition. She bent on her knees and looked over his body, which was sprawled on its side. He barely spoke, he stirred. "You're still weak from your fight from Hibiyomi! You shouldn't move!" she scolded him with bare tears. She cared for him too much to let him hurt himself. But unlike some people, she had the power to do something about it. And she'd do something about it whenever she wanted to, whenever she was needed to.

"Your friends are annoying," White Cloak croaked. "How about some privacy?" he suggested. A string of invisible lines began to radiate around them, circling them and closing in on them into a transparent dome of trap; an encasement to ensure that no one would get in, and no one would be able to get out. White Cloak couldn't help but smirk, smirk in his own assure victory that only he knew would win. Walter scowled, somewhat.

Damn it! Walter cursed his luck. I'm trapped inside; there's no escape…. He peered all around him, watching, looking for a weak spot. He found none. The glassy exterior trapped them, and suffocated them, slowly, draining out all the oxygen in the room. Then, he looked ahead, and saw nothing but White Cloak, stepping forward, casually, cautiously. And Walter gulped.

PoVS

"All right, it's time to finish this fight," Rick said with a clever smirk, knowing that he had a trick up his sleeve to pull a win out of the hat. His hand remained patted on the opponent's back. It glowed eerily with that yellow electricity. And Minoshi, he just stared in disbelief, knowing that the fight could not end so quickly, so irrationally. It just didn't make sense. Nothing led to anyone's victory at the moment, nothing lead to any loss. It was just in the middle of the battle. While they waited, the birds chirped eagerly, twittering their lyrics of song and harmony for the arrival of morning. The trees began to whisper early morning gossip, gossip of the sun for it had not awaken yet, it had not been able to notice that there were rumors spread about it, dark rumors, deep rumors. The winds carried the words in their jubilant scrambles of breeze. The syllables sifted through the grass, the secrets carried through the branches and hid themselves behind a curtain of whistle and bristle. All seemed to be unnoticing, unacknowledged of the fact that there was a fight going on, a fight that was soon about to end in it's non-built up hype.

"What!?" the opponent defied. A lock of disbelief carried over his face, his rumor, his gossip, as if he had just heard a horrible one about him. "I'm not going to lose that easily!" he declared. He struck his sword at Rick's position. Rick disappeared, and reappeared before him, pat him on the shoulder with that electric finger. It didn't sting at all; it didn't hurt, so the opponent wasn't really sure what he was trying to do. Was he trying to attack? It didn't work. He needed to work on it a bit more, then, thought the enemy. The enemy noticed his quick, unexpected dodge. His surprised face soon turned to a resentful scowl. "You brat!" he mocked, and swung his blade again, uselessly, mindlessly. Rick dodged once more, fading into nonexistence and returning to his side now, patting him on the arm with that electric yellow hand that did not buzz or give any sign of damage or hurt or power at all. They seemed to be useless attacks. Oh, if only Minoshi knew.

Minoshi sliced again. He cut nothing but air, again, and Rick came back, to pat him on the side of his body, again. This time, feeling invaded, he sliced once more. Rick appeared randomly in another direction, and patted him in a different place each time he reappeared. Another scowl from Minoshi.

Then, from far away, Sound Minor Marissa watched, full of awe. She stared past her tree of defense, of secrecy, and watched Rick continue to tackle him in the clear, somewhat lit up waters. How can he manage to use that technique on the water? She thought about it. Is he really going to use that move here? Marissa thought. She had a sudden flashback of when he had invented the move. It was when they were still in the Swamp of Mystery, and they had not found any opponents yet. Rick said he had gone to the next forest to train. But, she remembered clearly, that when he hadn't come back for almost two hours, Lance and she began to get worried for him, especially her. So when they went to check up on him, there we was, lying on the ground, tired marks all over him, barely breathing. The are was stiff and thin with electric current; the trees were all broken, limbs and sticks and twigs all over the ground as if they had been carefully sprinkled on by the decorative, creative fingers of wooden ornament tree. Lance had to treat his arms, and even his fingers, too, because he had trained so hard, despite Lance's warning not to

Also, the ground was sizzling hot; it was like he had burnt the ground beneath it, and not on top. White smoke hissed everywhere, and the stiff air was bound to attract enemies, so we had to move quickly. Any signs of what the new move was, exactly, were left behind. The only thing that could keep Marissa guessing was that his arms were horridly limp, weak, in fact. They seemed to have gone through some crazy type of move that would wear them out so much. Also, sparks seemed to jump from place to place around his arm, sizzling and hissing every now and then. It took a few hours of moving to have them wear off.

Yes, Marissa remembered it clearly. And now, she looked past the trees, into the lake so she could clearly see him use the move that he had made up, for it seemed clear to her that it was the time for him to use it. He really was going all out. That time, Marissa thought. He was really worn out when we found him. She sighed, secretly, to hide herself. Don't hurt yourself, Rick. And the slicing went on. And the electric yellow patting of hand on body continued as well, mindlessly, usefully.


	120. Chapter 120

Dawn waited for its cue of regulation, holding its eternal job that the higher powers had given it, higher than the Council, higher than anyone alive. It would keep its promise of paradise, for it was there for one purpose and one purpose only – to be itself, and so were the other things of the world. However, this passionate dawn continued to wait, somewhat impatiently with a silent grace, somewhat sad for the nonexistent storm that had failed to visit once more. It was rather peculiar, this time of day. None of the Minors could quite put their fingers on it, touching the perfect, enigma surface of the untouched, undisturbed body of water. The ripples would drain it of their secrets. And so, the world continued on with no emotion, keeping to its job, doing it rather perfectly; it was a benefit of no emotion. They could not love, they could not fear. But either way, they just moved on. The grass of dusk continued to sway, the leaves of night continued to crunch into a heaven's crisp. The fire of day cast upon sun-drenched land, and all would remain all right – for them and them only.

However, in this particular area, the ripples of disruption grew on surfaced waters. The rocks were crunched on, crisped upon. The air was moved, shoved, and the ground continued to get bullied, stepped on. Grass of dusk hid their places of work; the sun-drenched land became barren of heat in cold. The leaves stalked behind their parent trees, hiding secretly, rendering themselves in a fragile misrecognition, drenched in their own paranoia. Something had upset the perfectionism of nature's balance. Someone had disrupted their harmony, their nonexistence of no emotion, no love, and no fear. However, Marissa loved. Marissa feared. In fact, she could do both. And she did both now. She continued to watch Rick, pat and disappear and pat and disappear in the quick cycle of return. She gulped, her eyes careful, as if the scene were fragile itself, a perfect crystal vase with the perfect curve of stars and constellation sewn into it. She whispered something to herself, a light gasp of thrill, a disciplined thrill.

Minoshi remained solitary, unable to find a new position for Rick had trapped him, concealed him in a never-ending surrounding of speed and touch, speed and touch. It had become somewhat tedious, annoying. Minoshi laid a scowl cold on his face, his teeth yearning for its omitted cigarette of white smoke purity, the jester of cloud. He had missed the cool, dashing and somewhat erotic feeling it gave him when he felt that toxic breathe into him, as he breathed into it, as well as that low gray stream of relief and unstressed feeling that came to him with that lure of lit white and brown. However, the truth stayed the truth. He no longer had the cigarette to support him. He had nothing left to breathe for. And he felt empty now, useless, and so he stayed, barely trying since the beginning. He had just played around with Rick, seeing if he would be any fun or worth a replacement. Now, he just wished he could spit Rick out and step on him so he would come back to haunt him with flames upon the ground. But he should've listened to him first. It was over, and deep down, he knew it.

Yet, his main consciousness still defied it, still called plays on it. Every time he touches me, I fell like I'm getting stronger, Minoshi thought to himself in a suspicion, wondering if he should use this newfound energy to attack, or if it was a trick sent to make him plunge deep into the holes of nonexistence. "Just what're you trying to pull?" he muttered in grave, surprisingly whitened teeth. His hands graved another strike; another miss, another disappearance and reappearance, another pat of electricity that held no pain, no syringe of despair, injection of fluster.

"You'll see," Rick answered blatantly, typically. His games were not amusing Minoshi at all. And so the slicing went on. The patting went on. And finally, bursting with energy so much that he could barely encase it anymore, he sent a wave of dust, quickly, swiftly, the long tail of gray periwinkle hissing at the air, threatening to the clouds. Rick was pulled away from the whip of grayed tail, and positioned on top of a distant rock on the tranquil waters. Minoshi scowled at the miss. Rick was compliant, and smirked at his small, miniscule act of success. "Marissa," he called out to behind him, as if directing his voice to do so. Marissa cocked her head up. He had realized all along that she was there? She stared deep into space, as if ripping the air with her eyes, tearing the dimension into a wormhole. Only in her fantasies did they succeed.

She began to wonder what he could possibly have to say in such a tense time of battle. What did he mean? "I know you're there," he called out to her. So it had been. "Listen carefully," he instructed loudly. Minoshi seemed impatient; Rick kept a meticulous watch over him, as if he were a treasure, an urn of perfection that was worth more than one's life, worth more than time's eternity. Marissa did as she was told, as if his words had commanded her so strongly, so demandingly. "You know back then…" he began to reminisce, at a rather unusual time, too. "When we were kids? I always kept a secret from you about my family, you know that?" he said with a nostalgic smirk, remembering Marissa as a small, tiny little girl. When had they grown up so fast? Where did everything go?

The filth of gray dust and silt withdrew themselves, sensing the longevity of the speech, resting themselves for the moment. Minoshi waited most reluctantly, a hard scorn restless on his face, sending waves of his own intolerance throughout the area, hoping that Rick would sense it, despite the blonde's vermillion stare cast upon him. Marissa continued to listen, preparing herself for more shocked, unable to imagine the type of thing he would tell her next. Why? She thought. Why was he telling her this now, of all times? Couldn't he just wait? Or did it have something important, too? She would just have to wait, and find out. "Now, if you watch, Marissa," Rick allowed himself of continuation. "I'll show you what it is."

Minoshi had to interrupt, had to sneer. "You're absolutely pathetic," he said in his own growing hype. It had been an overdose of energy that had induced his words, induced that tricky old smile that would fail to wipe off, fail to dwindle itself back to norm.

"I'll explain it to you, too," Rick said scoldingly. Minoshi found himself full of scorn; Marissa found herself fully attentive. Watchfully, he began speaking. "A long time ago, my family was known for a family of fighters, but at one time or another, a Scholar began to use us for experiments of power. My family was rendered useless. Why my family? Simple. Because we had a special ability like none other." It was a moment of silence. Birds continued to chirp unnoticeably, twittering so soundlessly, so mindlessly that the humans did not notice, did not pay attention. The world was moving on, all of them failed to follow.

Special…power? Marissa thought to herself in awe. Was he being serious about this? Could the Rick she knew since childhood have such a secret to hide, so important that he was forced to keep it from her, his best friend? Or was he just kidding around, like he did in the past? She didn't know which one to believe, or which one she wanted to believe. "But when those experiments ended, my family was rendered weak and poor," Rick explained. Marissa gave an exasperated sigh of somewhat liberation, a small scale of relief. So that's why… she calmed. Her hair of brazen gold fell to her side and drenched half her face in it, engulfing her, suffocating her in its unknown selfishness of affection, conceit, a conceit that she hadn't quite gotten over yet, nor did her hair. Her characteristics exposed her personality. The strands of golden hay were just so perfect, too perfect for understanding of her soul, too concealing of her being. It was too much of a lure.

Rick's voice droned on in the one-side conversation, the explanation that everyone just seemed to be either uninterested about, or completely ground-broken about. "But we slowly rebuilt ourselves, and slowly became who we are today," he said with exception. "Our power…" he began to spill the most important part. Marissa listened closely, her ears twitching ever so slightly, ever so gracefully that they were unmentioned, unnoticed, the way she wanted it. "We were able to use our nerve cells instead of muscles to fight. We were faster yet had no attack. However, we could dispose of useless nerves and replace them with new ones. When we dispose, we can shoot them into opponent's bodies to keep track of where they are," he explained. Simply amazing, and even more words beyond that rushed through Marissa's mind. She had never known they managed to attain such a skill. The Kumoyama family really was respected in the past. But… as a side note… in the past... The mere thought of it put her at unease. She strained not to think about it, not to let the helpless recollections dominate her mind with the blackish clouds of cumulus and sunless daylight of brisk.

"But, with my electricity, I can bound the cells on an electrical string and keep them in one's nervous system as long as I'd like, ready to pull them out at any time," Rick continued to explain. He smiled, knowing that he was just a breath away from the good part, the part that made him know, without a doubt, that he was going to win this battle. "Meaning I can also send positive and negative charges through my cells, and most importantly, through yours." Marissa was left speechless before, her language, her vocabulary lost among the rain and cloud and rising dawn accompanied with the dying night. Now, she was breathless, without a doubt, unable to breathe, unable to take a rising of chest and a beating of heart. She could practically feel herself outside of her body, like she had fallen to the floor and thudded unsightly.

"Wait," Minoshi said with lowering suspicion as the answer revealed itself. His voice became somewhat raspy with sickness; he didn't want to believe what he thought. "So every time you tapped me with that damned hand of yours…" he let himself trail off, not even wanting to speak the thought that he had in mind, not even wanting to think of it, or to even have the slightest clue of it.

"Yes," Rick answered his question, happily knowing that it would make the opponent feel uncomfortable. "I was sending nerve cells through your body," he answered confidently. "But my body seems to be short on nerve cells; it must be an effect of experimentation. So I had to improvise," he said as he brought up his arms, showing traces of thin, almost invisible strings of electric blue neon, glowering with luminous light of star. The threads were like a whole army of them, a whole parade; just like a puppet show, with the strings crowded together as if they would entangle themselves at any moment. "I purposely sent out old ones and bound them by my strings connected to my arms," he explained. "But that was only the first part of the technique," he spoke with exception. Rick smiled again, knowing that the next part would be even greater than the last. "Here comes the next!" he turned his face to a quick scowl and blurred into agility once again. Marissa brought herself into attention as she felt the presence of Rick disappear. She would want to watch; she turned her head to the side of the tree to keep herself watching again. Her eyes were full of curiosity, an awe that was preparing itself to release, for it knew that it would soon be liberated.

Rick reappeared at a nearby boulder, surprising Minoshi with his presence. He made a pull of his arms, and brought the cells out from the opponent's body. It was a horrid crack of body and bone that released from the body that seemed to cry out from the sudden ripping feeling of skin. Minoshi cried out, swinging his head backward and his body forward. His legs trembled themselves weak. His limbs suddenly hung at their sides; his hype of energy was now brought to an end, a draining of energy instead of hype. "I drained all your nerve cells' energy with negative sucking charges," Rick informed. "You shouldn't be able to move now."

Minoshi winced, brow twitching, body trembling ever so weakly, so coldly with the absence of heat, the absence of warmth and power. He could no longer feel his arms, or his legs. He's right… Minoshi thought to himself, for he could barely speak. I can barely even move my mouth… or close an eyelid. "Now… for the next part," Rick jumped to the next step. Confidently, he brought his arms to his side, as if he were about to soar to victory. A smile couldn't help but spread on his face with those vermillion eyes of perfection gold, the electric blue strings following them, for they had been sewed in, locked with them for eternity. They were like stringing webs that traced his presence, a curtain of strung blue, wings of hot thread sizzling silently, soundlessly with the feathers of the body's nervous system, tingling as they touched each other in spark, invisible with their molecular presence, their microscopic beings.

Rick… Marissa thought as she watched the blonde boy she had seen grown up, from the tiniest, shiest little boy to one of the most confident, right after Eric, teenager, however she considered her a man, she had ever seen. Amazing… absolutely… she couldn't very well manage to finish the thought. Her eyes were locked in sympathy for herself and only for herself, for his power, although she was happy for him, made her realize even more that she was useless, weak. She was withering away, and Eric, Eric couldn't change that, because he knew that it was up to her. So as she found herself thoughtless, her own soul meaningless, useless to anyone she loved, she cared for, that tiny bead of translucency managed to leak from her glassing eyes. A trembling bottom lip made way to erupt her emotions to depression as she watched, unable to experience that wondrous awe she had gotten so ready to release. That single tear of blue eye came down to her cheeks and remained there, as if hesitating to move on, to go forward, just like Marissa believed she had done all throughout her Minor life. If she continued like this, she figured, her life really would become not only Minor… but indeed, truly minor. She was the lone flower. And she didn't know how to make others grow. So she began to wither; rose petal by rose petal, there soon became nothing left. Was there any hope for her left? She just watched now, watched the fight without realizing she was doing so, for her thoughts had laid out before her vision invisibly, inducing obstacles in her course of life. She felt like breaking down – it wasn't the time for that. She'd just get Rick distracted and once again, be in the way, be of no use.

"By draining your energy, I got faster, so don't worry. This won't take long," Rick jokingly assured. Minoshi scowled at his foolishness. Rick stood behind Minoshi's resting body, soulless limbs as he prepared himself with those same glowing hands. Minoshi wondered what he would possibly do now. He ground his teeth rather barely, not qualifying to have enough energy to do it angrily, to do it with a facial gesture. He was surprised he could even stand. It was the only part of the muscles in his body that worked now. Rick was relatively shorter than Minoshi, signs that he was younger. It'd be amazing if he really were to win. "By adding some of your energy back and taking them back out almost immediately after you feel the energy given back, I'll give you mental fatigue in the process," Rick explained as he began. Minoshi seemed rather fearful, rather reluctant to do so.

And Rick did it anyway. He patted his back, and Minoshi grunted, weakly, the grunt worth a million screams of pain. Now this is where all the hurt had gone to. He reappeared before him, and patted his front; he reappeared at the side of him, and patted his useless arm. He reappeared everywhere and pat him everywhere, until the pain became so severe that he was indeed, mentally fatigued. The feeling of getting something and then having it immediately taken away from you when your body thought it would get to keep it forever until death was a feeling of tediousness, and mental toil. Basically, the attack was inducing anger; it was pissing Minoshi off on purpose. "Now, I'll do the last part," Rick began to conclude. He knew Marissa's eyes were on him. And he was glad; if only he had known what she was feeling. That feeling of hopefully induced pride would not be turned down, because he didn't know it was.

"Hibana Ru-retto! -Spark Roulette!-" Rick declared as he appeared before Minoshi's weakened state of mind and body. He closed his eyes, as if wishing rest, wishing sleep and then waking up later. But Rick would not give him the chance. He had to attack while he was stable; or else the flaw of the technique would be exposed. Rick brought his hands to formed claws; his left one brought itself to Minoshi's mid-ribcage while the right hand pulled back, charging in potential. A readied smile of immense sound and power showed on his face, and Marissa, she watched, trying hard not to cry as the wind softly whistled past a song of the sad, for her and her only, whisking her hair to scarf away her face, and brightening the tear into notice. This was it. And they waited. Rick's front hands began to glow brightly with yellow, sparking ever so slightly, humming with that electric hum of ceiling lights that reminded him of his new home. Then, the charging became wild, frenzied, as if out of control. It seemed no longer friendly or sterile; now it became insane, a wild growling of hell and death, dissipating sparks and scattering light blustering into feral, impish blue and electric, crushing sparks. The tamed color became untamed, and the sound of solemn humming became the bursting of lightning. It emitted noise like neon lights of the pizzeria; and smoked lightly in a lush, yet dangerous destruction. Its appearance was full of deceit; it was much more hellish and a much more devious attack than it seemed.

Then, with a thrusting and drawing of hands that seemed to take a million turns in a matter of seconds, the attack started, and the sound of spark and electrocution against body and blood and skin was heard. It was a horrid cracking, a sizzling noise of heat. Rick cried out in emancipation of confidence into attack, shouts of declaration crashing into Minoshi's body. However, these intense screams of emotion were drowned, drowned by the heated charging and thrusting of hands, the sounds of sparks flying upon body and more body. The hands were so swift, too quick to count. They seemed to strike a thousand times a second; the threads of lightning so intense that they burst out of their domain and jumped elsewhere, no longer knowing any bounds now that they were liberated. The deal was this; he held a spark ready in each hand, a tiny spark, a spark that could do lots of damage. When he struck, the spark was sent through the body, and when it pulled back for the other hand's turn, it charged with another spark, and the same again with the other arm. At such a high speed, it began to push the body's center backward, the electricity too much for intake. The sounds of crying out in despair were clouded by the mist of sparks and hissing of threat. The arms continued to flail at an inhuman blur of attack. How could someone endure such an unexpected type of attack?

The body flailed with the arms; it was helpless – Rick had obviously all ready won the fight. Seconds passed. Minutes passed. The continuous beating had grown into their ears. Then, finally, when the flailing of limb ended into a satisfied demise, Rick was left their, heavily breathing, arms smoking in white heat, body falling over and into the water with chest heavily smoking its own invisible cigarettes that he had longed for; but not this kind. Rick was the only one prevailing on the rock of victory, holding his arms up just in case, breathing in the hot, steamy white smoke of his own triumph and felt like falling over himself, too. But he wasn't foolish enough to. Imagine how much that attack could do while the opponent was stuck in the water. Then, cued, Rick fell to the cragged surface of the rock, weak; finding himself unable to move, unable to catch his breath for it had been lost too long ago.

"Rick!" Marissa cried his name as she found that it was safe to come from behind the tree and to assist the boy. She ran frantically, ran to the lake and watched him fall over the rock. It had been too unsteady. His body now floated towards the bank, and she, all she could do was wait for him to come back, just like she had done in the fight. Now she waited at the bank of the lake, watching the slow ripples of water release form his now wet body. He seemed to drift closer and closer, taking his time while she waited, guiltily as she knelt upon the ground in respect and waited for him. She tried to reach out an assisting hand, but couldn't. She just had to wait.

Seconds passed, and Marissa finally was put to her miniscule use. She brought Rick up to his feet and put his arm around her shoulders. His wet clothes soaked hers, but she no longer cared. Her eyes of worry begged his to open, hoping that he didn't exhaust himself too much from the technique. His arm was heavy, big on his shoulder. "That attack takes a lot out of you," she scolded. "Our fight's over, though…" she let herself trail off.

"We have no time to waste," Rick opened his wet face; it was hard to tell what it was wet with – water, or hard earned sweat. Marissa blinked in worry. What could they have to possibly do now? Search for White Cloak again right after he fought? Impossible! He was weak and she was… too afraid to fight. Then, Rick began to pull away from her, and began to walk, unsteadily towards the trees. He walked so slowly, so difficultly. Marissa sculpted her face into anxiety.

"Where are you going?" she asked from her own panic. Her features were worrisome, coy with scarce bravery.

"We'll go to the nearest group's route to us. Maybe they need our help," Rick suggested without turning back, for he was too wet, too tired to do so.

"But…" Marissa began to exclude. "I don't want to see you get -" She was cut off.

"Marissa," he said scoldingly. She whimpered a bit, her eyes locked on to the floor as if he had demanded her eyes pried off of him, and watch the ground in shame. She remained silent for a long while, contemplating her unsure thoughts in her mind. Then, she stumbled upon a decision only because she was thinking that she had taken too long to decide, and he seemed to yearn to move all ready.

"Okay, fine," Marissa said rather girlishly, with a high voice. She walked gradually to him, taking her time. She brought his arm around her shoulders once again and said, "I'll carry you," with insistence.

"No, it's all right," Rick suggested back. "I don't need a g-" This time, he was left interrupted.

He had been cut off with a somewhat comfortable laugh. "Stop acting tough," Marissa suggested. "The battle's over, big guy." And with that last word, they went off to the west, hoping to find someone to help; well, it was more really Rick, who wanted to find someone to help.


	121. Chapter 121

It was a body, lying helplessly, stonily in the ground instead of on it, back tunneled in to a broken dent of cragged, smooth surface. It was the sparse of the dawn, the scarce of moon of the intertwined night and day, the cold mixing with hot, the joy compounded with hate. It was the wide, clear land, unlike last time, where it had been clouded in eruptive smog, fading sight, deleting eyes. It was Derek, who now lay carelessly without even trying in the first place, who laid in the ground, as if waiting to be killed, asking for homicide. His limbs were limp, hanging, protruding from the dent he had been pummeled to. It was Déjà vu of last time, really. With the stormy yet non pouring clouds, the confusing, indecisive weather and air. Only one thing was definite. He had lost before. And all the same, he knew he would lose again. So he didn't try. He didn't lift a finger to help himself anymore; if he should die, then so be it.

His eyes were voluntarily closed, his lips locked with grace, his face unstressed, his muscles unused, unwanted. He lay there, breathing barely, half-gone from the world, divided from reality and consciousness and into his own fantasy blatancy of surreality. His arms failed to gesture, failed to try anymore, to lift him up, for they had no motivation that drove them, that controlled them from the inside. The legs – they had forgotten how to walk, how to move and run in determination, confidence. His fingers remained still like an army of ants, ants that remained still in awe, not knowing what to do as an elite being stood before them, dark. They had become their own amnesia of wielding weapon, of striking punch. Inside, he held nothing but an indifferent compliance. Toned skin and dashing features were no longer necessary; dark, piercing eyes hid themselves, for they now rested, and they deserved it, too. Dark, straight spiky hair held themselves in prickled perfection. No movement that stirred his mind; no heart that brought him confidence. His breathing insufficient, his lips unmoving, as if they had nothing to say anymore.

Then, before him, like the shadow that stood belittlingly before ants, before his laid down, weakened state of body and mind, was him. The enemy, the opponent, the hypocrite of Derek's rival. He was the fake one, the one that didn't deserve the title of "rival." Yet he claimed it anyway. It was Eruption. His face had become dark, blistered with darkened coal and thin streams of lava, crooked around his half, half of it in the glassy crescent of hot, molten rock. It had been horridly distorted from power, from excessive, unnecessary strength. Half the face had been possessed, deviated as if by demon, by hell. It glowed with streams of white-hot lava, his teeth becoming crooked as well, crooked with deep, dark secrets, cragged with unholy tone and song, a satanic face. The teeth remained, wide and clenched, dribbling the clear liquid outward, playing with it at the corners, fingering it with invisible hands. A low growl came from the side of his body, a restrained scowl of rasp. His human eye that was now isolated as the only one became wide, petrified out of its emerald color. That wide, psychotic smile kept growling, kept purring and yearning for something more, something else other than its selfish needs.

"I wonder…" his voice now symmetrical of hell and human, filled with rasp, tinted with traces of once humane being stuffed into the deep, dominative corners of morbidity. Derek felt himself as a body of melancholy, his dark features now lifeless, meaningless. "Do you _want _to die?" the voice rasped out. He walked over with sizzling steps, hissing at the ground threateningly, hatefully, _murderously_.

The deity of unholiness protruded; inched with every godly step it took of his immense power. That low, weak smile of satisfactory amusement quickly turned to dissatisfaction, and toppled over to a bit agitated frown. "You're no fun," he growled as he leaned over and brought Derek's body up with force, holding his body by his black coat-like shirt, and that was it. The stretching of clothes led no care to Derek's mind. His eyes crossly opened. They did not stress either; they did not show any emotion other than compliance. Eruption could do the most horrifying thing he could, the most morbid thing that came to mind, the most incest; Derek wouldn't care. He guessed he'd die anyway. The scowl turned showed on the gritted, hot lips. They exhaled sharply, thoroughly in a hot, steamy breath, damp with disgust. Derek didn't care. Then, noting the absence of reply, Eruption struck a blow into his face's side.

The punch stung, deeply into him; he didn't care. He was sent, toppling over the floor. He lay on his side now, watching the ground, watching it as if it would speak to him, as if it were to befriend him in his moment of unwanted need. I can't beat him, he told himself, gazing into space, gazing into the distance to the future he thought he would have. All of it was unclear now, anyway, faded and discolored into low quality noir. It's pointless fighting back, he figured. I'll just die here, then. It won't matter. It won't matter at all. And then, the shadow brought itself over him once more. Derek's eyes wandered to their corners, to find the darkened features of the dark divinity before him, scowling in scorn at his presence. He stared with indifference. The scowl grew meaner, darker. A low breath of beast seeped out through his teeth. It sizzled against the air.

As if that look had been poisonous, as if it had hurt him, Eruption knocked a hot, glowing fist against Derek's face. It knocked his head to the opposite side now, and the side of his teeth throbbed with pain. He refused to shout in pain, he refused to admit that he was hurting. And that fact made Eruption yearn to kill him even more, yearn for this boy's blood, this boy's screams of agony and pain. He would be pleased when he heard them; he would be pleased when he spilled blood. Spit spurt out from the sudden impact to the side, a spraying pattern of wetness upon the ground. Then, another punch, again to the face. Then another. And another. And another. His face became hot and bruised, reddened with pain, and still, he denied the agony. Still, he denied the feeling of ceasing from his loss. And that made the punches even harder, even more determined. And soon, there came another punch. And this one – this one spilled blood. Derek's head was knocked over once again; blood spilled from his mouth and to the ground in a horrid, splattered puddle. Still he refused to shout. However, even so, it gave Eruption a slight satisfaction, a slim, insignificant throbbing of excitement and heart. Seeing the blood, seeing Derek's blood – it made the insides of him crave, desire his torture even more. It derived him from boredom, and derived Derek of nothing. And so the permitted round of blows continued.

Eruption soon began to move on, and began to trail the punches to his neck; it forced a bit of an unexpected squeal from the boy. More anticipation filled him. The trail of punches continued down his chest, where the squeals formed grunts, and at the stomach, the grunts formed shouts, loud shouts of despair, proof of pain. Eruption liked that. He liked seeing him in pain. And then, the punches continued at his stomach, crashing down on him as Derek continued to cry out after every punch, wincing with every blow. His teeth trembled as they grit each other, trying to hold back to shouts, the pain. His eyes winced themselves shut, as if that were to protect him. However, Eruption's permit did not fade, or falter in the least. And so, laughs of satisfaction, laughs of excitement continued, from the enemy, psychotically with dribbling, widened teeth, broadened eyes that were so stretched to the point that they were sickening.

Not too far away, too isolated to assist, Zack and Mark found themselves back to back, scowling at these infinite production of clones, of copies. They despised them at this point, hating them and their every bit of fading existence. Zack was the first to call out with a seeping, sharpened inhale. Troubled over Derek's own good, the situation vexed him horridly, as if a spell had been cast upon him and his life. He scowled, wanting to cry out, wanting to beat Derek himself just because he wasn't trying, just because he wasn't being Derek! He had never known he had cared for him all that much. "We're getting no where fighting like this!" he shouted angrily, groggily. He wanted a faster solution, a better way to finish this fight before… before Derek…

"Zack, calm down," Mark continued to beg of him. He gestured with his hands as the two boys stared opposite to each other, watching the crowd of white replicates lean closer ever so slightly, so carefully as if they were delicate birds, ready to flee at any moment for they were afraid of these beings, which, at some level, they truly were.

"No, I won't calm down!" Zack snapped. Mark seemed shocked at the sudden defiance. Zack had always followed with obedience before every time Mark had suggested it. He guessed the boy had just gotten too tired of not being able to do anything. "It solves nothing!" Zack spat. "Derek…" he said the boy's name with a growl but a little more calmly. "He's going to get killed!" he shouted in demand. "Is that what you want!? You want Derek to die, Mark?!"

"Just wait!" demanded Mark out of his pressured eagerness. He strained, and took a sharp breath of calming. It brought no tranquility to him, but it cleared his mind somewhat, to some scale. "Let me think of something!" Mark begged. Zack trusted him with another, impatient chance. Mark could think of nothing under his pressure, and he soon immediately began to regret with worry and striving comfort and peace of mind asking Zack for his last straw, his last nerve. They could no longer see beyond the multitude of white.

Another echo of punch filled the broken sparse air. The punch thrust right into Derek's midsection, pushing immense energy into him, immense pain. Derek called out in hurt, wincing terribly, shouting terribly. His arms flailed into the air from the force, and his legs jumped up, to some scale. Then, they fell back to his side, uselessly, mindlessly. He had now been punctured into another hole, another dent. The corner of his lip was bloodied, streaking out a red line as if it had been painted on. His eyes were weak; they seemed to beg for sleep, beg for rest, for death. But something inside him, even if he denied it, wanted him to live on. It was just too far back to be noted with recognition. In fact, it was too far back in his mind to be noted at all. "You were more fun last time," Eruption scowled, bringing himself back up. His shadow fell over Derek belittlingly.

"What's the point?" Derek muttered weakly, uselessly. There was no strength or annoyance in his voice, no power, no effort. And that… wasn't Derek. "I'll just end up with broken ribs again," he remembered. The thought flashed into Eruption's mind, as if he hadn't remembered since the fight began, which wasn't true. The enemy smiled victoriously, as if he had all ready won the battle.

"Smart man," he rasped demonically. The igneous rock masking his face seemed to infect him more, spreading out more towards the other side of his face now. He scoffed with amusement. Derek was nothing but serious.

"Just hurry up and kill me," Derek suggested with no demand, no reluctance. "There's no point in wasting time," he mentioned.

The request made the foe smile with enthusiasm. "You really are pathetic," he sneered. Derek didn't answer. He made no more attempts to speak, for it would just postpone the deed even longer; it would stall. "Fine then," Eruption granted pleasingly. He reeled in a punch, and that punch made a sickening blow into Derek's body. A grunt of pain groaned out from Derek's unused voice. His eyes winced in requested abuse. Another punch came in; another scream came out.

Mark scowled, breathing sharply once more as if it were to help him. "Damn it," Mark scowled his luck. "I can't think of anything!" he complained.

Zack roared. "God damn it!" Zack he shouted in complete insanity, his mouth widening to lengthen the scream. A huge burst of energy rushed out of him, a large burst of wind that threatened the White Cloaks backward. His teeth ground to a growl, a beastly growl as he got on all fours. His once innocent eyes became unfriendly with dark features, narrowed confidence. His body burst out hints of white aura that caked his body like decorative chunks of Half Spirit. His hair became ruffled, flustering with the absence of wind. Cool touches began to surround him, all his muscles seeming to spasm with great energy at the same time, in the good way. Mark could feel the slight exhaust of breeze release from him. He backed away, surprised. His eyes widened in shock.

He – what's happened to him…? Mark thought as he put his arm before him, readying his defense just in case something would go wrong. He ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes as well; ready to fight, ready to act. Then, Zack seemed to snap out of it a bit; the white energy faded as he growled one more time from his humane anger and burst into the swiftest, most agile blur you could ever see – you couldn't even see it – you felt the gust of wind it left by as a trail. That's how fast it was. Zack blurred right out of the surrounding, encasing crowd, knocking over several replicates in the process, fading them away into their original nonexistence. He… Zack… Mark was left thinking in awe. Words could not even begin to describe how he felt.

Just in time, with just the right distance from Derek, Eruption reeled in the last punch that seemed to burst with lava, gurgling with heat, and sent it flying. Its deformed fist held spikes for knuckles, ready to inject the hot lava into anyone's body. Just in time for rescue, Zack zoomed right into the scene, taking in the punch. The pikes of igneous sunk into his chest, and he scowled, grunted in pain instead of screaming like he felt. Eruption froze his hand in awe, unable to pull it out. He… he immobilized the stream of lava, Eruption thought. A low growl from Zack scowled at the opponent. The foe just stared, breath taken.

From the ground, Derek stirred just a bit; his eyes opened into half-dead slits. His body was slowly repairing from the blows. There were no major injuries; he had just been weakened by the reckless, unplanned punches. His voice was bare to speak, barely motivated. His cheeks were reddened and scuffled against, his body's skin filled with tire marks. A short breath was necessary before attempting to speak again. "Zack…" he grunted, a bit questionably. Derek's body stirred a bit, weakly. "What are you doing?" he asked as if he wanted the boy to get out of the way.

"You…" Zack growled at Derek in his suspended position. He could not move; his voice had weakened to his body's equally current state. It was a bit raspy, too, but it still managed to talk, weakly. "You idiot…" he mocked Derek while trying to help him. This made the black haired boy widen his eyes a bit. "Have you forgotten all ready?" Zack muttered difficultly. "What Kawari told us… back then?"

_"I think you're at least somewhat strong when you're brave enough to stand in front of an attack, and take it," Kawari had said with his childlike smile. His eyes twinkled as he spoke. "Like Dylan before; he had to take an attack from the last opponent for the weathering plan to succeed, right? That's the kind of stuff I'm talking about. When you're brave enough to do that, it's a big step to showing that you care, and that you're powerful."_

The two Minors had suddenly remembered it at the same time. "Are you really just going to give up like that? After all we've been through!?" Zack said with anger, annoyed by Derek once instead of the other way around. "You sicken me," he groaned. Derek remained, listening silently with wide eyes. He strained, choked on his own breath. Blood leaked from the stabbed chest in a dripping streak. The opponent listened to this, too, as if he had been frozen by the words. "Derek…" Zack said his name calmer this time, calling out to him attentively. Derek's eyes shuddered in their sockets. His features were frozen in alarm. Zack was the one…being the one disciplining him now. What's wrong with me? Derek wondered. "Are you really going to let go of everything you've learned… everything you've realized!?"

Derek waited a moment. Then, his eyes narrowed, his features tightened once again. "You shut up," he suggested. Zack scowled, knowing that his talk had not worked on him. "Against this guy, I'll die anyway," he scoffed meanly.

"Shut up," Zack spat with scorn. Derek seemed a bit jumpy at the sudden change. Zack argued well, for the idiot he was. Derek would remain silent now. "Derek would never say that," Zack said. "Just shut up." And Derek was just left there; staring at the back of the Minor he had always looked down on and felt like he had to look over, now protecting him, now acting bigger than him. Was he right? He just stared, gazed, for he didn't know what to do now, in awe. "What happened to… to the tough guy I know?" he asked the Minor roughly. "Are you really going to… going to let yourself prove your parents right and… and Eric wrong by letting yourself die so easily, by letting yourself prove that you're weak as you showed pain?" Zack asked loudly, trying to get into Derek, the Derek that was buried below this new, alien one, this despised one.

There was nothing but silence, and the sizzling of Zack's blood on his skin. He strained in difficulty. His breath began to heavy, but he knew he had to continue speaking, he didn't want Derek to die, to fail. "Even after Eric risked his life just to do it the first time? Are you really going to die when you didn't even… even try, like a weakling? Huh!?" Zack demanded loudly, spitting out the words in ridicule. Derek gave no reply. "Derek!?" he called for the Minor, the boy. "Are you listening to me!?" he demanded once more. Then, as his next words came out, his mouth clamed, his perspiration cooled and his voice became slight with certain sadness. "If you really believe that, then you might as well. You're not Derek," Zack told him. "You're dead to me. You can just…kill yourself." Complete and utter silence. Shaking of eyes, indecision of heart. "Derek!" he called his name once more. More silence. More indecision of heart.

Seconds passed. Minutes. Zack strained in pain, feeling the cragged igneous rock prick his ribs. He gulped in uneasiness. Then, the silence was broken. He had stalled enough. "Idiot," Derek remained to say. His face was shaded over now, nothing but darkness over his eyes; his mouth was the only thing that showed, and it showed no emotion, seriousness. Zack was the one put in slight shock now. His innocence returned. Slowly, rocks brought themselves to the floor beneath. Eyes opened up, narrowed. Feet and arms regained their motivation they had so lost, and the heart of bravery began to beat again, and set on passionate flames. The legs sprawled into themselves, bringing the body of the boy up. Cragged, broken rocks fell to the ground as he stood, unable to cling on to him anymore. Slowly he dusted his pants ever so slightly, so gently. His back straightened slowly, suspensively. Then, he picked up his head, showed his mean, cold stare that he had always had, held that tough, light scowl of confidence that Zack had always respected him for. "You're too loud," he said. "I don't need you to tell me what I'm doing," Derek smiled as he brought a hand to the corner of his lips and wiped the blood away. After the wipe, there came a smirk, a readied smirk of prepared prowess. Dulled eyes were now piercing and dark, sharp and dashing once again. His dark features were put back to use and became striking once more. Derek scoffed, his old self brought back into norm.

"That's the Derek I know," Zack muttered as loud as he could as he continued to deal with the leakage of blood and input of pain. He forced himself not to wince, but instead, smile at Derek, wink at him in assurance. And Derek smiled back in gratitude. Then, Zack strained, winced for he couldn't help it anymore. The pain was beginning to sear with heat. It was no longer safe. He stammered a bit.

Noticing this, Derek began to suggest. "Enough, Zack," he called to the boy, now fully stood up. Derek no longer felt the punches on him anymore; he could no longer feel the pain of the blows from before, because those blows weren't to him. It was to another him, the hopeless him, that shall never return, for he was deleted into fantasy now. "You've done too much all ready. I'll take it from here," Derek assured with a winning smile. He stammered a bit in the dent in the ground. He slowly put one foot out of it. He readied his arms.

The enemy sneered. "You're funny. It's not like I haven't beaten you up enough," he scowled.

Derek sneered back. "You're joking," he laughed. His face immediately turned stern and serious, prepared. "Those punches didn't even hurt at all; they're nothing compared to what I have in mind for you," Derek assured with that tough, forgotten smile he had regained, thanks to Zack.

Derek and the enemy stared at each other tensely, feeling nothing but readied arms and dark scowls on their faces. They both promised to beat the other one down, and now, with Derek regained back to his full norm and even better, could he still have the ability to take this Eruption down, who still gained power by the second with that morbid mask of power that continued to dominate him? A chance of revenge came from this battle. A chance of a second win did, too. Who would win? The tough, spiky-haired seventeen year old with dark, well-built and striking features, or that horrid monstrosity of prowess crave emitted from darkness, from the past? And now, they just stared, both ready beyond belief, both prepared, and neither looking more situated better than the other. So they stood, waiting, smirking, _glaring_.


	122. Chapter 122

The tension seemed to smoothen, cool to a soft, simmered crisp as both seemed extremely confident they were to win, not the least bit worried about the other's efforts. It was inevitable in their minds, that they were to win and beat the other. There was just one thing left unsolved: who was right? The snappish brusque of brazen ground remained cold, unnoticed, its peachy color tainted with the footsteps of unholiness, deviance. It had seemed to infect it, a venom that spread into its insides and burst into swelling holes of lava and igneous. Then, there were the steps of bravery, the steps of teenage confidence that induced a rather attractive personality, that seemed to motivate the crusty body below them. Both seemed equally powerful; but that was just how they seemed. Who was the real powerful one?

The imminence of dawn swirled in the skies, pools of cool air that whisked each other away painlessly, peacefully. They were whirlpools of clouds, so tranquil and beloved, swirling in their patterned whorls, as if they had been a planned performance, a task of beauty made with intent. And there were traces of the moon, a periwinkle chip of sky lingering in the faltering background, as it, too, faltered the night. The night of secretive hiding seemed to end; the motivation skies began to heed and mend into their independence of power, of eagerness. The gallant boy stared; the significant opponent scoffed at his efforts. "Try me," he provoked eagerly. A tightened fist showed certain keen.

"Fine," the newfound bravery of the boy spoke clearly, confidently. Almost immediately, he brought himself forward, grasped Zack by the top of his head and pushed down, bringing their bodies into the Darkness beneath the surface. They were away from the scene in seconds, and Eruption was left there, vulnerable now to all directions. He looked around, a bit frantically, too, his feet sizzling against the ground intensely, heatedly. As he moved, each step hissed with a snaky threat; they, too, seemed to want to enter the surface, by melting the ground. His now two-thirds of mutated feature glance in this direction, that direction. All he saw was the cragged walls of rock that seemed to close in on him. It seemed that all of nature was against him now, now that he didn't know where to look, where to fight. He scowled at his uncertainty, disliking the fact that he had lost one of his gambits to win.

Far away, into safety, Zack was brought from the ground and into the floor. He was not accompanied by anyone but the cool air of the early, early dawn. Not even a speck of light was available to shine on his face, to tickle him and give him notification of morning. He looked around, trying to find the recognition in his surroundings. Nothing was there but dark trees of nightly cease, ruffled leaves that had hidden themselves beyond belief. Rusty branches were there; obsolete from existence, useless now of no purpose, no life. They swayed ever so gently to the world, so delicately for they had nothing to be mad about anymore, they had nothing to cry for. So they gently patronized the air, the nature, acted as if it were its own. Zack realized where he was. Derek had sent him back to the place where he had been before rescuing Derek. He smiled, knowing that Derek was now unblended with uncertainty. It would be the first, and only time Derek would ever show _that _emotion.

Eruption continued to look around, dazed, every corner, every inch of his sight looking the same, as if he had seen the image a million times a second, like he had compound eyes. His mutation continued, an infection affecting his exterior, crawling over his skin into layers upon layers of magma and glassy black igneous. Then, before he knew it, it was a blow to his head, his face, knocking _him _over. He twirled uncontrollably to the side, felt the pain throb into his jaw, into his side of face. He scowled lowly, unsurely. It was Derek who had suddenly appeared from nowhere with that enormous blow, as if he had done it with hate. And Eruption searched for that hate. But it wasn't there. It wasn't on Derek's face. Nothing was told from it accept determination, a comforted smirk of victory, early triumph. The blow was full of whisking shadow energy that emitted in a backward eruption that fumed from the slits between his clutched fingers, fumed in gaseous streaks and faded, much too early forgotten. "I'm done hiding," Derek told. "Come!" he demanded.

Half of Eruption's face let a crooked, coaled smile. The fangs of obsidian were rocky and dark, blackened into molten perfection. Human dribble leaked out in drops, monstrously. The other human half scowled a bit, with narrowed eyes. He seemed to fixate himself, or whatever one could call this gibbous metamorphosis in progress. Then, rising with energy, he returned the punch. It missed; Derek had ducked and Eruption had been too late. Tension rose, doubts began to rise as confidence did as well in another. More punches came, more misses came back. Every time Derek found the perfect chance to strike, he did with perfect precision, whisking those fumes of shadow energy every time to pressure the attack. Any regular human would have their jaw broken by now.

Zack, Derek thought as he fought with precision, as if the brown-haired boy he had mocked, ridiculed for so long and would continue to in the future could hear him. You were right, he told the boy in his mind. Blatant silence came to retort. I'm not going to let my parents prove me wrong. I'm going to find another way to power, my power, he continued to think. That's why… he trailed his thought off. Derek jumped away to dodge a lowered kick. He found a chance as Eruption pulled back. I'm going all out on this one! He finished the thought with accordance to his attack. His limb burst into snaking length of slithering shadow. It pierced into Eruption's rocky body, stabbed right into his torso just as he had done to Zack. He scorned despairingly in pain as he withheld the driving pressure of the attack. He let out a low groan of pain as the sharp, devious fingers pulled them out of his body, as if he had just had his band-aid taken off. The cloud continued to preserve the dawn, waiting until just the right moment.

"You bastard!" Eruption roared, his voice half robotically in the mutilation of soul, sound maimed of innocence, marred into molten dark. The foe leaped into the air and reeled a blow ready, his hot fist glowing with immense heat of bubbling magma. Derek began to pull away. It was too late. The blow came. A long, bulleting explosion of scarlet lava flare erupted from the ground, the collision huffing gray, warm clouds of smoke out anciently, elderly. The hissing fire and molt screamed into the ground and shrieked into the sky. The red-hot glow soon died out into nothingness, replaced by the darkened clouds of rising smoke. The ground had been quickly weathered from the technique, pebbles and cobbles of sediment sprinkled around the area as if by godly, decorative hands of divinity.

The two presences were blocked, unseen, indefinite in the fog of cloud. It slowly hissed away, slowly whisked slivers of what happened into place, into time's hands for judgment. And that's why… Derek continued to think. The smoke rose higher; black, immune of rust tail of chain clinked their arms with each other noisily, rattling in yearn as their bearer moved below the cloud of curtain smoke. I won't let myself lose here! he demanded of himself. The dust continued to clear; the ground had been rippled with blackish threads of shadow energy that had sewn a web, an area of proven limit, glowing ever so slightly, so faintly with the immense power pumping through it. It was bright with suspicion; the chains clattered on it, clinking in cheers, in new arrival of opportunity and chance. The dust now whisked the presence of Derek's eyes through a sliver of vision. They were mean, confident, sturdy.

The sizzling of lava ate away at the smoothened marble resource ground; its red-hot glow screamed for life. "Eruption…" Derek's voice chimed from inside the misty curtain of blackish clouds. The foe's ears were caught into alarm, attentiveness. "This battle is mine," he told him. His eyes widened, and turned to a scowl, a defiant scowl.

"Not without a fight, it's not!" Eruption declared. He found Derek's presence and rushed for it. He drew in his punch and charged in while still caught in the surrounding gray and brown. His attack was stopped short – he called out in surprise. A clinking of chains clang at motion. The large, metamorphosed fist that had been enlarged to a volcanic color and size felt the cool material of a thin blade. Then, as if on cue, the drapes of secretion smoke fizzed away into nonexistence, and was whisked away by the light breezes that had become too eager, too desiring of what had happened. Derek's eyes looked up gallantly. It was a sword he held in his strong, skillful hands, a sword with a large prowess, a thin blade that was as smooth as the cleanest steel, large as the half-size of a large bark of tree. It was engulfed in its blackened color, all coal-like and charred into its darkened power. Its handle remained black, too, while it wore an arm of black chain like a scarf, a costume, snaking around its body as if constricting it in encasement, imprisoning it. It glimmered lightly in the hot lava, ever so innocently, so miniscule in reflection. Only one person knew what this blade could do other than block a foe's punch. That person was Derek.

It had seem to come out of nowhere, as if Derek had pulled it out of thin air as he looked all rough holding it, bravely smiling. "What the – What's going on?" Eruption demanded as his gaze fell upon the web-traced floor with shadow energy. It awestruck him, the sudden, quick change with the sparseness of time and apparent effort.

"You don't have time to look away!" Derek recaptured his attention, his opponent's eyes bringing up in a sudden gaze of gasp. Derek brought the blade back and reeled a punch right into Eruption's face again. It fumed with shadowed energy, and stung horridly into his skin. It had sent him a blow of unexpected exhilaration, not even giving him enough time to realize that he had been attacked before the second one came in, and did the sufficient amount of damage. Derek pulled back now, waiting. He held his fists up, prepared with a growl of a glare. He watched the enemy expertly, carefully, confidently with pulsing determination.

"You!" Eruption pulled himself back and brought in an unfocused punch. Derek ducked easily, and counterattacked. The brought himself up with a blow to Eruption's jaw. It stung more than the first two combined, and sent him flying into the air. Still holding the large blade, Derek waited a while before coming to him as well. He was the only one left standing in the grown field of limited shadow webs. One would wonder what it was for. Derek disappeared and reappeared before the flying body, which was limp and helpless, unable to do anything in midair. Derek held the blade in one hand, the chain heavily wrapped around the blade and connecting to the center of the web. He prepared himself. The battle was soon over, Derek assured himself.

Watching the two go into midair slowly, Zack sighed in his own exasperation. He had all ready forgotten about his wound, for Derek had brought him pleasance to give him a sort of ignorant bliss. "Finally," he muttered to himself, sure that Derek was to win, whatever he had in mind. He waited, coolly in the cold ground, freezing his legs as he carelessly sat, his wound still leaking blood without noticing. An unafraid smile showed on his face, widely presenting itself happily, greatly. Soon, a shadow fell over him, a shadow of misrepresented ominousness. It darkened over his shoulders, stood on top of the broken up, uplifted and weathered ground silently, menacingly.

"Hey," the voice called out to him. Zack turned back, and blinked, once. He recognized the face of his teammate Mark. Around him was broken up land, signs of extreme fighting. However, Zack had thought that Mark said using extreme moves was disallowed. "You just going to sit there?" he smiled.

"What happened here?" Zack asked suspiciously. He looked at the uneven ground and its abnormal patterns of weathered bits and pieces and unleveled uprising and such. It looked like a horrid mess, a massacre of ground. The boy remained on the ground, as if totally disregarding the other's question. "I thought you said not to use extreme moves."

"Yeah, true," Mark said, looking past his own shoulder. He found the mess of rocks and ground and stone. Bits and pieces and plates of marble were spread all over the ground, sprinkled decoratively, divinely and messily. It was proof of a new move; a move his teammates had missed. "But, after you went berserk over your boyfriend, I noticed how many times we have used powerful moves that gave away too much information. With that much evidence, the real White Cloak should've come out a long time ago."

Zack blinked, calmly, once, twice. Then, blinking the third and last time, he began to roar. "What'd you say!?!" he demanded angrily, loudly, uproariously just like Zack had always been. Mark laughed. "You disgust me!" he accused with a comical point.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he chuckled widely. "Don't need to get yourself in a bunch," he spoke amusedly. He just couldn't seem to wipe that smile off his face. Inside, he still was laughing hysterically.

"But, what about the real White Cloak, then? Where's he?" Zack asked. "If he should've come out a long time ago, like you said," he asked. Mark's features turned stern.

"He wasn't here from the start," he answered gravely. "It was a plan to distract us and keep us away from Derek; if you hadn't gone into an outrage, Derek would be dead right now." Zack was speechless, filled to the brim with his own disbelief.

"Whatever, none of that matters now," Mark suggested. "It's all over." He put out his hand to Zack's face; the sitting Minor wondered what he meant. "Come on, let's get that damage of yours fixed," he insisted. Zack nodded, and brought his hand to Mark's, being quickly brought to the ground. They began to walk over the unstable grounds and behind the trees, where Mark could tend to Zack's sacrifice for Derek's regain of personality. It was a minor sacrifice, one of a great deal, for Zack's side. He would've gone so much farther for Derek, though. Then, as they disappeared to the darker parts of the higher elevation, Zack looked back, just for a second, and saw Derek and Eruption still drifting upward in midair in the Minor's preparation. He said nothing, sounded nothing, and just turned back imminently, and into the darkness of whirling dawn and swirls of night. Dawn continued to linger in the sky, waiting patiently. And so did Mark and Zack, because they knew what they were waiting for wouldn't keep them long.

PoVS

A horrid, extreme bursting of crash. It pummeled the ground, burst against the air with implosion of noise. Uproarious vibrations mimicked the clouds of scarce lightning as they waited, tried to see if they could call upon dawn, the morning to wake themselves up. Loud crashing of smoke piled into the air as Takiato Daniel broke free from the smoke's grasp. The arriving morning had been so quiet, so peaceful and calm. Birds had begun their bare chirrups of melody, the ancient limbs of trees had swayed ever so lightly, so elderly in their needed rest and silence, that seemed to last for an eternity – their eternity.

Perspiration was wiped from Daniel's brow. His breath was becoming sparse; his body, tired. Hissing smoke threatened spears at the air with dragging wisps of gray and brown and dirt. His body's gotten four times larger since the beginning of this fight, Daniel noticed with a thinning breath that soon became scarce of life. How? He asked himself. Silence answered him from his mind. From the cloud of smoke came the slithering, lengthy body of the now body of a worm, chest and above of a discolored human, zooming right past Daniel as he managed to dodge it just at the last second. Its impressive body was as awed as well as nauseating. Its peachy insecta body writhed in the air, slimy in sounds of churning chunks as it moved, disgustingly. Fingernails had been elongated grossly into digging, piercing beaks of yellow, pecking on the ground by mistake for their unpleasant length. Skin color had been faded from a human norm of peach or tan to a morbid gray of displeasure. Eyes had been mutated so darkly, so heatedly and demonically to a point where they looked like two dark beads upon the clams of hell. He was now as long as a roller coaster's body was, screams of people the writhing, mixing noises of squish inside. It induced retching.

As it rushed past mindlessly, recklessly like a runaway train, Daniel spun himself out of the way, and tapped the chafing body ever so slightly, draining the life energy and putting the skin partially into stone. He left it there, as if it were a tracker, an experiment. His eyes carefully watched the body as it chugged past, roared in a somewhat agony, as if it had felt pain from the transfer of larvae body to stone, and broke into the ground once again with an implosion of noise. No smoke emitted, but its body took quite a while to rush in, restlessly, crazily as if in hunger. Its tailed whipped in frenzy in the air until it was eaten by the new hole. The entire area was covered in these holes that the enemy had punctured, punctured to go underneath the ground so many times. It had been strange, really, how many times it seemed to hide. It shouldn't have been because of defense. Its speed was its own defense. So why was it necessary? Daniel slowly answered this question, bit by bit, taking his time for impatience led to reckless answers, and reckless answers led to broken solutions.

Let's see then, Daniel watched, waited for the next arrival. His brother seemed to just stand there; the battle had gone on for quiet a while. Daniel looked as calm as ever, despite the slight loss of breath, but otherwise, he was fine. He hadn't wasted energy at all; he had learned how to preserve it. The only redhead Minor continued to wait. The ground rumbled in arrival. He embraced himself. Then, the ground burst open with a new hole, and the dragon body of squish and insect soared out and rushed like a roller coaster past Daniel, missing him ever so barely once again. It came past, and crashed into the faraway ground, making a new hole. Daniel examined the body as it chugged past, watching its clean, normal body, pure of all injuries, pure for it, anyway. Just as I thought, Daniel noted. He felt a light sense of achievement, taking a bare second to savor it until he got right back to the task at hand, for it was not completed yet. But so far, his hypothesis in mind was correct; if all turned out well, it could be possible to use his first plan.

In that case… Daniel reached into his pocket, felt the smooth surface of a thin piece of plan just lying there, waiting to be used. He waited for the next arrival. On cue to his sly pocket slipping, the foe burst from the ground once more and slithered around him this time, somewhat, and crawled into the air, soared right above the trees and crashed back down, Daniel as his target. The Minor jumped away, and sent out an arsenal of soul spheres to attack the opponent. They bulleted through the air, straightforward to their target with no possible curves like the targeting of a perfected missile. Each one hit where he had planned, for it had not just been a random picking of where to attack. The body droned back into the ground with a rumbling of surface.

"It won't matter how many times you hit me!" the voice cackled from beneath, differently, evilly.

"Oh," Daniel piqued with a knowing smirk. "I all ready know that; you don't have to tell me," he said cleverly. The foe began to wonder just how _much _he knew. He would've been surprised. "I figured it out a long time ago." Daniel's hand was now out of his pocket; the pocket was now empty. "Don't waste my time!" Daniel called out. "Hurry up and come!"

"Aren't we a bit hasty?" the voice shot back rather more loudly this time, as if he were closer. "Fine, then; I don't have a problem with it!" the beast roared and burst out of the ground again. The body soared to Daniel. Daniel embraced himself. He shot another set of soul spheres to the snaking body as it sunk back to the floor in striking failure. The plan was working. But just what was the plan? What was the point of hurting the enemy and wasting your own life energy just for the purpose of having the foe recover a second later? Just what did this redhead genius of youngest age Minor have in mind for his brother, as well as the opponent?


	123. Chapter 123

The air seemed to fasten into excitement; the climax of the battle was soon reached. Daniel's foe rushed to him, as if bound to him by destiny, a connected fate that filled with detestation; a battle of eternity that never gave the slightest chance of cease, the smallest hint of end, demise. The air swirled with the morning dew, the wet, thickening tension that seemed to bring unease, discomfort to once tranquil states of bodies. The roaring beast soared violently, eagerly through the air as if ensured of his victory, his mouth watering disgustingly with the crave and hunger for triumph, the lust for blood filling and manipulating his insides so expressively, so dangerously and passionately.

Time had reached an end; Takiato Daniel was ready. "Whether you like it or not," he leaned backward, creating distance between him and the lightning fast foe. "We win this battle," he declared readily. "Now!" he shouted, breaking the solemn air with certain anticipation; the tension had broken; the cue had begun. "Go!" he demanded himself as he shifted his feet in a tamed excitement. The rushing rocket of a poor excuse for a body, as if on cue, went vertically into the air with screams of dreams as specific places on it exploded with certain power, sending pain all throughout it randomly. It roared like the beast it now was, the dragon-like body it had become with the worm like structure. It was a rush of excitement, a burst of adrenaline.

The opponent fell hard to the ground in a seizure of shock, immediate petrifaction after a blistering surprise. The explosions were still hot on its body as it slithered back down to the floor desperate and sparse of comfort, sparse of calm-minded ness. He now lacked tranquility; everything was going according to Daniel's plan. The redhead had to act swiftly; he could not waste another second. "Kenneth, get to that tree!" Daniel pointed to what appeared to be any ordinary ancient sapling of norm. Daniel washed his face over with urgency.

"What?" Kenneth asked in suddenness. "Which tree?" he spoke from his own quickly decided compliance.

"That one!" Daniel pointed more eagerly, frantically as he ran to his own respective tree. Kenneth wasn't sure what to do; he stammered a bit. "Just get there! Over there!" Daniel commanded, speaking rather quickly, outbreaking in wearisome motion, a wordless turmoil. Kenneth quickly acted, recklessly, taking himself imminently to the worn out tree, unable to find the significance of it, or why it was so important. Daniel, now liberated from that worry, brought his hand to the thin bark of his tree, grasping its body tightly, as if he were about to throttle it, suffocate it with bare, ungloved hands of carelessness. If I can take away life from things and turn them to stone, Daniel thought carefully, full of hopes, for he had no time to experiment with it. Then I can give it, too! He declared.

His grasp grew tighter, thicker, hotter around the cold wood of the thin tree of anorexia. Its well nourished limbs began to glower with a silent hum of yearned midnight, a slight electric melody of neon green foliating it, tracing it as the human energy exerted into it, and remolded itself into a tree's support. The bushy head of it grew hotter, grew excited in passion as the energy filled its insides, and rustled it so slightly, so hotly, and so gravely. The limbs began to stretch and grow, inching outward towards the sky, for now it had been awakened, before morning, before usual. Its elderly leaves tickled the air in gratitude for its second chance, softly caressed the light breezes that would be so willing to come to it, for its feet were still rooted to the ground, immobilized, yet now, in a way, liberated from imprisonment. The head shook in life, in grace as it drained all the sediment in the ground, drained it, sucked it in for unselfish needs, for it was someone else pulling the strings, and not itself.

The ground remained silent; the night remained watchful, patient in the cool air that would soon rise with dawn, clarity. But for now, there was none. For now, emptiness stirred into emptiness, piling upon patience and patience that never seemed to die, that never seemed to weather away into nonexistence. Nature waited. Daniel waited, Kenneth waited. The trees, all silent, all solemn as if they never were, waited. And then the rumbling. The noise of low magnitude underground that signified one thing and one thing only: a presence. "Now!" Daniel's voice broke the silence, crushed the air. "Kenneth, freeze the tree down to the ground!" he cried out to his brother frantically. "Now! Do it, now!" he shouted in a rush, as if he were speaking to an alien.

"Okay," Kenneth assured in enthusiasm. Grasping his cool, raw fingers around the tree's thick trunk, he began to frost over it, on command. Layers of cold, thick blue ice seemed to crawl from his hands, seep into the body of the tree as it was frosted over with decorative numbing. The ice crisped all the way to the roots, and even then, they didn't stop. They froze the ground below, the canopy of the bushy head above. They froze the limbs, the limbs that had so long wished, tried to reach the sky, the stars and that periwinkle moon. Now they would never get a chance. But another time, then, would call for it. Destiny didn't call the end of plans for the live of this tree yet. The roots cracked with frost as the ice continued to grow. The light, frothy chill of the freezing intruded into the air, intervened and stood out rather comfortably, usefully. It was a refreshing moment of breath.

And below, a life froze as well. Eyes underground widened as body froze; arms were put to useless position. Features became periwinkle raw themselves, and deathly, cold. No longer was there a wait. No longer was there a battle.

PoVS

Derek and Eruption continued to soar higher and higher in to the air, as if paradise was calling them, reaching out to them. The Minor put himself in position, radiating with confidence. He brought his sword forward, and crashed its body into Eruption's. No pain was felt; nothing happened but a slight increase of ascension. Derek leaned upward, and did the same, over and over again, the costumed enemy of glassy obsidian feeling no pain. They continued to climb into the cold, waiting air. Nature was now waiting for these two, carefully watching for the outcome, carefully examining Derek's attack.

"I thought you said you were going to do something," Eruption smirked effortlessly, somewhat mocking Derek's tries. "Every time you hit me, I don't feel anything, weakling; is it even supposed to hurt?" he scoffed. No answer; just a narrowing of dark, striking eyes. "Your blade doesn't even hurt," he continued to provoke.

"Don't be so sure!" came his first answer. Derek growled as he drove the blade's body more into the opponent's coaled cover. The crack of rock against dull blade chimed in the air. Their ascension continued. The driving continued, until finally, Eruption's mutated hand began to crisp, crackle as it let go tiny, small sediment of obsidian, forming a fault on his arm. He gasped sharply, as if such a thing was completely abnormal, unseen, like he had just discovered he had a disease. His eyes were filled with petrifaction; they no longer moved. They just stared, stared into his own arm, stared into the slow lava flow and the breaking fingers and hand.

"What!?" he cried out before putting himself into awestruck silence. Derek smirked in his first step to victory.

"My blade, Kumokatai –Spider Leg-, doesn't cut or slice," Derek began to explain as they elevated more and more bit by bit. He gave a tough smirk, a lightening of dark, fine-looking eyes and a smile that was possible, in a way, that could make one feel warmer inside. "Or do any physical damage of any sort, for that matter, at its current stage," he continued to explain. "Its best use is one thing and one thing only," Derek waited, pausing for a slight effect. "It injects!" he shouted in a grunt as he crashed the blade into Eruption's body once again. Eruption felt a bit more pain this time. A horrid crack chimed the air and faulted the silence.

"It injects?" Eruption growled the question as if such a thing was never heard of in the world. "What do you mean!?" he demanded angrily. "Your blade isn't built or shaped for injecting! You're not making any sense!" he accused.

"You're pathetic," Derek scoffed. Eruption widened his eyes, as if he hadn't heard the word pathetic, either, no matter how many times he had used it against Derek. The Minor sneered a bit at Eruption. "It's not the way Kumokatai looks; it's the way it's used!" he crashed the blade into his body once again. The slight pain had become a bit worse; the cragged igneous armor began to fault more and crackle to a crisp. "It has tiny, microscopic 'syringes' made from my own Half Spirit energy that inject themselves into you and allow me to access the links of your body." Eruption seemed to stall, wait. "In other words, I can render your powers useless; I locked away your powers, just like Hibiyomi did to Eric back then."

He remembered that scene he had watched so clearly, those needles pouring from Hibiyomi's arms and to Eric, without the red clothed boy even noticing that the cut wound had sent Free Spirit energy inside him. However, that amazing boy just wouldn't give up; he managed to break free of the lock anyway. Such a thing seemed impossible under a Council's control. He remembered watching Eric get up despite the odds against him, despite the thoughts of people that agreed Hibiyomi had the fight down. But in the end, it was he who had survived one of Hibiyomi's strongest attacks; it was he who had won, and done more damage to Hibiyomi than he had done to him. It was he who prevailed. But in this case, it wouldn't happen with Eruption. The victim will stay down. Derek would make sure of it.

"Now," Derek said, sending one more blow to him with the blade. He seemed to lean in closer to his face, their noses so close they could almost breathe on each other. Derek growled at him with piercing eyes and clenched, vigorous teeth. His eyes became cross with narrowed brows; perspiration strolled down the side of his face, as if he had a hard time doing this. "Your turn to win is over. I win!" Derek sent a powerful blow to Eruption's face with a resentful fist. It sent him flying high into the air as Derek brought the wrapping of chains around his blade free, sending them out to his body like a whip. The chains rattled as they snaked up the sky, shaking each other with linked arms as if they were afraid that they were to let go, to liberate themselves and fall to their doom. The black metal wrapped around Eruption's body, clicking tightly around him. Sediment of igneous rock fell to the ground as he went more and more up; his mutation was beginning to deform.

It was over. Derek gave a strong tug. The body… came soaring down.

PoVS

Eric tried to get up, desperately, difficultly. The night was cool against him, compassionate for him with sympathy, wishing it could give him energy. They couldn't, and they sobbed, invisibly for him. Teresa was at his side, looking rather awkward, not knowing what to do. But she knew what to say; that was important. Eric had been laying face-down on the ground, unable to move. But now he tried with the greatest effort, he tried to get his body up with a push-up lifting. He couldn't; it just didn't seem to work. His elbows shook violently, straining upon gravity. His white, healthy teeth clenched in their confidence and restraint of pain; he wouldn't give up that easy. One of the twin eyes winced, reluctant to accept the pain, defying it, pretending it wasn't there when he knew he couldn't simply wipe it away. But what else could he do? His knees trembled; his body could barely move. And Teresa just watched, compassionately, seriously.

"Eric!" she called to him as she kneeled on the floor. "Eric, stop! You'll hurt yourself!" she scolded. He continued anyway. He strained, groaned from effort. His hot breath released into the air, confident and clean, warm and comforting, a somewhat boyish breath, if possible, in a good way. "You're not recovered yet from your fight with Hibiyomi!" Teresa informed. "You should rest as much as you can; you shouldn't be trying to get up!" No use. Eric continued to get up. "Eric, do you hear me?" she growled a bit angrily now. Her eyes flickered purple. Her stability had been faltering a lot lately; she strained a bit herself. I can't, she told herself. I can't outburst here; she tried to calm back into tranquility, or whatever you could call it.

"No," Eric growled through clenched teeth from strain, and not detestation. His eye continued to wince, his body continued to hurt in discomfort. But he resisted it, he denied it. "Just because I'm weak…" Eric began. Teresa's attention was caught. "Doesn't mean… that I have an excuse for- for letting go of the people I care about!" he declared the loudest he could; the steadiest he could in his condition.

Teresa seemed awestruck once again. Simply amazing, this boy. How many times had he changed her mind about things so far? There were two big times, two noticeable ones, and then many other tiny little ones that she recognized on the way. There was no other word for it except… amazing. No other synonym would do. "You…" Eric called to Teresa. "You of all people should know that," he rasped in a difficult whisper. He faltered. Her eyes were brought to a widen – she could hardly believe it. Her eyes filled with recognition now as she stared into space, into her trance for thought.

Eric slowly began to build back up, and then suddenly climb to his feet, bringing his knees forward. He stammered a bit as he straightened himself up, slowly, difficultly. His heavy breathing began. He really hadn't recovered yet. He had become exhausted so easily. Eric slowly brought himself forward, to a stand, but he couldn't seem to move; it was as if his feet had forgotten how to walk, had forgotten their purpose. But he would make them remember. No matter what. Eric's back was slouched, too weak to bring it back to its straight, confident norm, even if he had the same determination as before. His stamina levels were just never worn away, no matter what you did to him.

"No," Teresa spoke after seconds of thinking. "Sit back down," she said, still kneeling on the ground. Her eyes faced the surface below, the purple gaze hidden in shadow, in shade of her own head. Eric stood before her, his face also covered in shadow. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving, his shoulders shrugging without voluntary use. Teresa unfolded her arms; her violet hair fell to the front of her face. She made no effort to replace it. She swallowed, a bit nervously. "Sit back down," she repeated, a bit louder this time, a bit more demanding.

"Teresa," Eric managed to gasp out. His eyes were concealed in shadow, unable to be seen, unable to be used to depict and decipher emotion. All you could use was the way he put his mouth to use. "I thought I told you all ready -"

He was cut off. "I'll get rid of the field," she interrupted. Eric seemed surprised, the most he could show from being worn out. "You rest. Let me do it," she insisted calmly, voluntarily. Eric seemed to contemplate. Teresa brought herself to stand, more easily than Eric had done, more quickly, more efficiently. She lifted her head and stared right into Eric's eyes. They showed nothing but confidence, and Eric, seeing her features began to consider. He didn't know; he wanted to be part of it, too. He couldn't just sit and do nothing. "What's wrong?" Teresa asked seriously. She turned away from him and walked towards the invisible domed wall that separated the two from Walter and White Cloak. "Don't you trust me; after all you've taught me?"

Eric said nothing; he gave a sharp exhale. Then, he fell to the ground, falling with will for rest. Teresa smiled as she looked back, confidently. Eric, exasperated, gave a tiny smirk, the most of a smile he could make. Then, she turned, and brought out her hands. Her hands began glower ominously with purple. Her hands did as well, shining like embedded stars of the missed night sky, for it had long been ceased, and they waited, in somewhat brightness, somewhat darkness, for dawn, for the new beginning. But they had to finish the ending first. That's the only way. And they drew it out of them to be as loathing of that task as possible.

Teresa gave her hands towards the field before her. No one could make a force field better than her. _No one_. And she would make sure of it. Her eyes began to glow with her confidence, her readiness as the energy piled into her hands and glowered in bright streaks from her fingers, the palms of both her hands. Strife of her thick, purple force field energy began to form at the wall of invisibility; it began to grow and exhaust flames, crisps of the purple fuming out in wisps as the eager, thicker part of it began to cut deep into the dome. The strands of her hair began to defy gravity, tickling the air ever so slightly around her, beginning to silhouette in the intense purple energy. She knew now that behind her, Eric would be watching, with the best pride of her he could make out, resting, breathing heavily.

In the actual force field being currently drilled into, White Cloak approached Walter coldly, calmly, as if he was sure of everything, yet sure of nothing. He seemed to appear of complete neutrality, extreme with thick, undivided norm that seemed full to its promised entirety. Walter kept a close eye on his every step, backing up as he made another step forward. "How many times must I tell you," White Cloak began to rasp out darkly, secretly. His hooded presence gave him a more ominous look, bringing him into the subject of enigma and mysteriousness, suspicion. "That you… have no use here?" it rasped its rhetorical question. "I've talked to you long enough. This time, I won't play around with you anymore," White Cloak declared. "Walter," he rasped his name loudly, darkly.

The sound of his name with White Cloak's voice gave Walter the chills. His eyes seemed to freeze upon eternity and time; the reality of the world seemed to bend after White Cloak had completed his sentence. The ground began to distort into whisking waves and lumps of uplift. It was no longer solid; the brownish, once normal ground of dust and dirt became disturbed and abnormal, mixing in the surreal air that seemed to waver as well, sew into each other with grandmother time's old, ancient hands that were crispy of work, unsmooth and wrinkled from constant effort. The trees began to fade; dark began to become light yet not quite light, and light became dark, but not quite dark either. The sky began to falter; the clouds began to break apart into insensibility. Surreality began to form everywhere around Walter, and he, being the victim, could only stand there and watch everything around him – the trees, the birds, the dirt, the grass, the leaves, the air, the sky and even the ceasing night itself falter into surreality.

The fantasy of paradise being hell and hell being paradise continued to drone on, continued to mix with the dispersing stars of night and periwinkle of faraway clouds that had been long gone; they had bid their farewells hours ago, and now, now they came back because this was a dream – a dream come true of indifference. Walter was forced to be compliant of the whole situation as he was slowly sucked into the dark fantasy plan of White Cloak. He was blind but not blind. He was human but not human. He was emotional but not emotional. Walls of diamond began to form and turn into their reflection with the despited indifference of light and dark, reflecting another world, each a different picture of glass mirror, each fading away slowly into the distance, trailing away in rows. The walls – they were solid, yet not solid. Into one mirror showed nothing but the fresh grassland of sun, the other showed the snowy wonderland of the moon. The other showed the windy eruption of tarnishing Mars and Jupiter. Many mirrors reflected each other… but in a way… didn't reflect each other at all.

Nonsense became sense here; immaturity became a lost vocabulary word and maturity was a flavor of air. Confusion filled everywhere; everything became black and white, a fixated noir that was full of echoing sound. Distant trees would become more distant if you came closer. Air was unhealthy to breathe, yet you were healthy for breathing it. Walter found himself standing there, immobilized, not in emotion, not in petrifaction, but just… immobilized. He couldn't move; he didn't have the sense to – it was no longer an idea of mind to walk, to move. Move didn't make sense to him anymore. In fact, the word move became a memory, a recollection not worth keeping. He just stood there normally, feet against the flat stone ground that gave ripples like water did when you _moved_. But he didn't move. He wasn't in water. He wasn't in stone. Which one was it? His eyes were frozen open; he could no longer talk, either – his senses were unavailable to him. He felt as if his arms were spread out, and a cool wood was touching against his arms, as if he were being crucified. The tight, uncomfortable feeling of suspended in the air and hovering with something bare to hold you that wasn't a form of suicide came into him, though he was not placed in a crucifying motion. He was not hovering at all – he was standing… on ripples of water, and flat, unbothered stone at the same time. Where…where am I? Walter could only think, slowly, distortedly.

"In h-" a somewhat robotic voice faded and blurred before him. "In h-he-hell," it blurred. "In hell-l-ell…!" it droned on. Just what really was going on? What would happen to Walter? Would he die here, in this parallel universe that he seemed to be trapped in? Or would he live on, but continue his life with a much heavier burden on his back, after he left the world? Good-bye, Kasumi Walter.


	124. Chapter 124

The mixture of reality upon fantasy and fantasy upon surreality became thrusting, soft, gentle, decaying of its health, decaying of its sense. The air swirled and stayed frozen; numbers lingered everywhere, invisibly, lost thoughts that had escaped the prison of mind, each number representing a code, a letter. The number one stood for a. The number one stood for b. The number one stood for c. the number dark stood for hell. The clouds whispered their nonexistent message, painted across the sealed canvas of no light; the walls of no walls stood still, unbothered, unimportant. The world was at an end, the curtains of finale had finally rung and rattled to the center, indicating demise.

The sun and moon interfered with each other, overlapped each other with flipping pages of nature in the book of life, the phases of the moon intertwining themselves again and again as the sun reversed its path in the sky. Arrows hovered about and lingered in the air randomly, as if pointing, indicating a new road, in every direction. East was north. East was south. South was northeast. West was north-south. The dark pointing arrows never stopped to take a breather, never rested to make sense, not even the smallest slither of recognition fallen upon this new world, this land that could so easily be called an alien of earth. The ground stopped flipping; the earth stopped writhing in pain and dementing itself into horror and mobile petrifaction.

Where am…I? Walter repeated in his mind again, unable to blink, unable to move, unable to breathe the cardiac air. Who am I? He asked himself. How am I…sick? Dead? Ill? Am I… divided amongst… multiplication? Am I overlapped upon emotion with emotion… sewn together by the fingers of fate that no longer knew what to do, that no longer knew how to knit one, and pearl two? Am I an animal? My heart – is it beating? Is it singing, dancing? Are my emotions twirling and whorled around each other while I remain still, tranquil in an ungrounded sense of nature, water? Am I the weather? The sun? No sound answered him. No noise gave retort, gave a choke of instance that would forever keep him alive, forever keep him knowing that he was… a dog?

What was a dog? Reverse became reversed into reversal. The world remained silent in the slow paced crawl of objects and fantasy; delusion danced about the certain thick, thin air, twirling itself in opposition of nature, tickling Walter's face, while he had no idea what it was. The whole world was discolored into a darkroom's noir; nothing but an old movie's black and white, silent with intent. Walter's lips did not move, did not even twitch. There was no longer any need to breathe, to move, to have your heart beat, or have your eyes blink. There was no need of living, or dying, or being dead. There was simply no purpose in this wonderland of mixed emotions that compounded together senselessly, beating each other uselessly, only because the higher powers had commanded them to, to kill each other, to blunt each other into nonexistence until nothing remained but the blatant universe itself. And even then, they would continue to beat at each other, render each other hopeless with their abilities, their lives and power. Fabrics were sewn into blankets of stars in the air that gave no lustrous glow, no luminous breaths that lingered about bodies, retching the stench of fresh night, cold air. Gray leaves were stepped on by invisible footprints as they suspended themselves in the air; blades of grass were indifferent to movement; some simply moved, some didn't.

Some seemed so unreasonable, so lost and never found while still being surrounded by their loved ones. They didn't know how to move, they didn't know how to live. They stood there, pointing at the air, as if it were of interest, or somehow luring their interest, drawing out their thoughts of pique, of curiosity. The ground began to falter again. The ripples of the stone ground began to conceive a bubbling rising of ground; the flat surface now twisting and turning into distortion, into induced implosion. This strange dimension of insensibility continued to falter; the ground before Walter bubbling into a rise of earth, chunks of it beginning to engorge and inflate from the inside, as if they were about to retch something out, sickeningly, nauseously. It gave a cracking sound of stone, a bubbling, drowning cry of helplessness, a gurgle of demon.

The cloud of earth continued to grow, and went on to Walter's height as all he could do was stare and try to depict what was happening before him, blank thoughts full of overlapped emotion filling his mind, unable to comprehend anything anymore. A blank stare filled his mind, filled the dimension. Then, the bubbles of gray began to deflate, and hiss into form, into a human, silhouetted form. The largest became a head as they mixed and churned and weathered itself into sculpted perfection, chiseled by nonexistent hands. The deflation continued; the bubbles formed legs, arms, and a body before Kasumi Walter. The body grew structure, it grew shape. The blatant universe had conceived a new person. – White Cloak.

The enemy stared, stood quietly, solemnly, doing nothing with inactivity, as if he could do nothing in this world as well, as if he, too, were powerless. On some level, Walter understood that, the level that was so far away from his apparent consciousness that it did not even qualify to even be realized with thought. His white had turned into a grayish white; the black of the hood becoming darkened as ever, as if his appearance would never show, as if his eyes, his face were too hideous to reveal to the outer world itself. Where am I…? Walter thought again. Where….where am I? Where am I? Thoughts faded into nothingness again. That sentence made itself into insensibility as well; it had been spoken, or rather, thought, too many times.

"_In… I-I-In h-h-h-ell-l-lll-l," _White Cloak's voice chimed rather unequally, unconsciously. The figure of White Cloak split to the side, the other side, as if his silhouette had, too, been distorted by holographic images. His body stretched to the right, then to the left, then back to norm as if nothing was wrong. His voice sounded of robotic noise, buzzing in a certain microphone, telegrammed voice. Walter did not hear the words. Or, it was more like, he heard the words, but he did not have the strength to comprehend them. In fact, he was empty of realization that much had been said. _"M-m…my h-he-hell, anyway-ays…"_ White Cloak stammered phonetically in faltering voice. A technicality had been made. His image blurred once more, shifting dramatically now and then, as if he weren't real, as if he was never really there.

What happened…? Walter thought. Why can't… I speak…? He asked himself, as if something were inside him, writhing into possession of mind that would tell him the answer, for it at least owed him that. No answer came to. He had lost the feeling of his bones, his fingers, his body parts, his insides, as if his soul had been drained away, and it lingered now, uselessly, mindlessly around him. It was so close to him, bits and pieces and nooks and crannies flying around him so mysteriously, so suspiciously; he just wanted to climb away out of this dirtied shell of fearless petrifaction and take the shards of shredded consciousness in his blatancy of grasp, and return the pieces to his head, for each one was of enormous value, each photo and film of the scattered page of collage was significant to him, in special ways only he himself knew of. But he couldn't. He didn't feel the need to do it, really. He didn't even, on some level, realize that he didn't feel his insides. He didn't realize on some level, some great level, that he was away from the real world, away into the fantasized norm of crooked mind.

_"Because… I control your body h-h-here-e-e-ere," _White Cloak rasped. His imaged paced itself uncontrollably to the sides once again; bouncing off the invisible boundaries the real had created himself. His voice seemed radioed, hazing in certain buzz and drone, white noise.

Because of… Walter thought slow-mindedly, his eyes still frozen into their emotionless petrifaction of compliant event. Because it's… an illusion…? He asked his inner self. The teen of green wisps beneath him, hiding in his shell did not answer today. He, too, was isolated upon distant truth of reality, stuck in the white murmurs of death, of noise. The arrows that lingered around him slowed their speed in a way; the moon and stars and sun began to separate their overlapping eclipse, but at the same time, expanding their non-luminal bodies of black and white into great, circular oblivion so that they would forever remain a representation of a diagram of Venn, or at least, in the end, of certain tangence to each other. They gave no heat, no cooling air, for the air was everything to the world, and yet, meant nothing to the skies that seemed so far away, and also grounded to the floor, the rippling stone floor that continued with perennial movement despite the lack of movement, motion.

_"Y-Yes," _White Cloak rasped unevenly, incongruously. That strange buzz to his voice hadn't weathered a bit into norm; in fact, it had gotten worse, overlapping more and move. "_You – you managed to figure ou-ou-out so-so-so quickly," _the strange, metamorphosed voice continued to bluster into the air speechlessly, senselessly, as if he were stammering mistakes just so he could accommodate with the constant war of emotions that promised in treaty to become a battle of permanence that would last a full eternity, and maybe even further than that constellation of eras. _"This is a s-s-special technique that o-only t-two people share in the whole entire world," _White Cloak explained. Walter heard him barely; the words just went to the back of his mind. _"I-I am one of the two. You should consider yourself l-lucky to experience it," _he said with the most clarity he had ever spoken with, despite that constant rasp of voice. Walter just stared on, blankly, dully. _"Now, then," _White Cloak went on. What now? _"Shall we…begin?" _he asked strangely.

On cue, Walter's eyes found their lost fear of his petrifaction. His eyes broadened even further in scarce tranquility on his face; he no longer felt or was normal. His brown eyes that were once piercing of nature became dull, lost of their sharp being for they were no longer cross, they were no longer of dark emotion and secretion of thought. The dark world seemed to falter before his eyes, more than possible, it seemed, into a historic breathing of hell and paradise and disgust and love and lust and all these mixed emotions that seemed to rush into Walter like a crazy, erotic beast.

It ripped apart his soul as he looked straight into White Cloak's hood, directly into it as if he could see his face, like he could find his structures beneath that shadowed hood of forever secretiveness. Then, beneath that darkened hood of noir color world, eyes opened up, showed their grayish color of silent movie, the twenties'. The eyes brought out their deviance, their narrow evil that put chills even to Walter's spin, the boy who had lusted after revenge for so long, lusted for a life without pain, one of his purposes he didn't seem to realize just yet. In time, tough. In time, he will grow to know that that was what he really wanted. Painless life of paradise. Then, the eye morphed into their own abnormalities, as if the world they were caught in wasn't full enough of it now. The pupils began to suck into the air; traces of the only light began to suck into White Cloak's pupils, and began to thicken them, thicken them into life, into recognition as the most noticeable thing. The light continued to be sucked in as if by a mystifying force, and the pupils – they enlarged so that they fully became the eye.

It seemed to eat at White Cloak's external body, becoming out of his eyes' bonds and out to his face, enlarging too much, expanding as they ate away his face, his hood. The pupils became now sucking black holes of hell that became as large as one and a half diameter of their respective eye sockets that lay below under his skin, his blood, his flesh. They continued to suck in light, and as Walter stared deeply into them, looking as if into the future and awestruck with thoughtless thoughts, he began to feel himself lose control over everything, more than he was all ready. Walter's old innocence became drained into the depth of eyes that stared at him wrenchingly before him, darkened in truth, tainted with lies.

Walter found himself swimming in the darkness of White Cloak's eyes, swimming in it, thriving in it for dear life. Echoes of voices poured into his helpless, thoughtless mind continually, repetitively.

_"If you must, swim in the lakes of power, drench yourself in the currents of darkness and revenge, so that you can be drowned of your former self, and cease into a new person. The person you always wanted to be. The person you need to be in order to become what you want to become. There is no other way for you. Your fate has all ready been chosen, so erase all small thoughts you used to have of changing it. If you don't, you're more than pathetic. You're dead."_

Walter continued to swim to nowhere, half his body gone, and half his soul eaten away. His energy tired from his shoulders below. His head could only jerk to one side to the next, the only reason he was panicking – because he could _move_. Then, into the darkness he found himself, staring at himself, his back, in the same position he had been outside before the eyes had happened. The image was so clean, so clear and full of sense that it made absolutely… no sense. Then, he saw White Cloak. He saw his eyes open up, and he saw the pupils dominate his sockets again. And then he stared into the darkness again. And found himself swimming, again. Then, he peered into the darkness once more. He saw the back of himself, frozen, once more. He saw the eyes open and suck himself into the darkness, once more. Then again. And again. And again. And again. His fear overlapped into his one body, the emotions multiplying into immense folds; they were unbearable to the human body. He was lost; there was no end to this cycle. He saw White Cloak's eyes, and in White Cloak's eyes, he saw himself staring into White Cloak's eyes, that led to White Cloak's eyes, that lead to White Cloak's eyes, that led to White Cloak's eyes…

Walter's own eyes became widened with shock, horror, heartlessness. He had become faint of heart now. They stretched into spheres over his face; the white part showing completely over as the pupils became isolated now with now lids to defend it calmly. His frozen features were completely overrated, overdone into fear for he had been sewn into fantasized reality of hell, darkness, fear. He felt the fear he had before in the beginning of the illusion, but this time, after seeing into White Cloak so many times, felt that fear, at least ten times over. Then, those images of evil glares that seemed so inhumane, so demonic became images.

They became flashing images of gray, white, and black, full of pain, murder, genocide, hell, blood, suicide, depression, and sickening splattering of scarce love and warmth. Those images then became a sea of flashing noir, clicking each other into differentiating situation one after another, paving the ground that Walter had been standing in, paving the earth that rippled like water insensibly. They became a collage of pictures, flashing pictures in motion, dead motion that shattered every time they showed the blood, the hell that people went through, people with blank faces, people with dull eyes and hot blistering tears and the world of trembling bottom lips. And Walter stood on this rippling ground of collage. He stood on it, without motion, forced to watch them expand before him, flashing in seizure motions, seizure speed. Then, closing in on his eyes that shuddered ever so slightly, so close up you could see the frosty fright inside him, the fantasy somehow began to fade around him, shred into norm reality. The mixing of silence and noise became threatened, and gasped away, whisking itself back into the world of illusion and forcing Walter out. The brown-haired boy, still devastated from petrifaction that brought him overboard, was now weak in the legs.

He fell to the ground, his once confident and cool-headed body falling to the ground. His features still frozen, he had barely even realized that he had fallen to his knees in weakness before White Cloak, who remained hidden beneath that same old shadowy hood; color had been brought back to the world. The illusion was over. White Cloak's eyes were no longer seen. Walter bowed to the ground, eyes still inevitably stretched inhumanly, brought to an emotion of turmoil and chaos. Pandemonium rushed through his blood; he could not feel his heart beat; he could not touch the cool breaths he used to take in to induce tranquility. Shadows fell over his face. The images had died away into nonexistence now, yet the memory still lingered in his mind. He wanted to wash it away. He wanted to wash it away.

Seconds passed, seconds of waiting. Walter's face began to deform horridly, disgustingly, so suddenly that it was shocking. His cheeks began to become perspiration, his skin – his _flesh_ slowly falling apart into liquid, drops of if falling to the ground into doom. His arms began to follow suit and the rest of his body – his legs, his feet, his begging knees and once straight back that now melted into oblivion. His features became demented into liquid, the colored liquid of his skin, his hair, his blue clothes. And those colors began to fade into clear blue; those colors began to fade into the color of water. Nothing remained… but a puddle of it.

White Cloak did not utter a low cry of surprise. It seemed that such a thing was much too low of rank to give shock to him. Besides, using that technique on Walter did not take a lot out of him. It was only a taste of what he could do with those eyes. Those powerful, great eyes that he himself – with another, created. But that was another story. "So it was a replication all along," White Cloak muttered in a clear rasp, a steady voice; his body did not swish to the side and his voice did not blur in radioed automaticity anymore.

Then, a fist came striking from behind White Cloak, thrusting in anticipation and excitement, a rush of adrenalines, a burst of impulse and animation. It aimed for White Cloak's back of the neck. It came closer, closer, closer – it stopped. No, it didn't stop. It was better to say that it was… blocked. However, White Cloak had not turned around. He had not used his body to block it. He did not necessarily use any supernatural powers to block it. And the fist had no intention of stopping. So how did it, really? It was another hand. Another hand that writhed out from the back of White Cloak's neck and clasped Walter's real fist cleanly, purely with those white gloves and sleeves. The fist tried to pull away. The hand had a strong grip on it. White Cloak's body made no further noise, and stammered weakly, toward the floor as the hand began to crawl out more out of the first White Cloak. It seemed so unnatural, so inhumane and nauseating to see a hand just come out of a body sickeningly with the sound of cracking, crisping bone.

Then, the hand began to lead to an arm. The arm began to lead to shoulders, a head, then a chest. The chest lead to a body, and the whole entire body of White Cloak crawled out of his shell, and came to the outside world, feeling the freshness of air on his tickled, delighted selfish face. "So…you're the real one?" White Cloak rasped as the shell of his former self fell to the ground with a dusty thud. It clattered to the surface, emitting young clouds of dust into the air that were whisked away into invisibility momentarily after their birth. Sad. "I'm not losing to you," White Cloak declared as he brought out a blade of bone protruding from his gloved finger. He held Walter in place, holding his fist so he would escape. Then, he brought the elongated bone back, then thrust it forward, and right into Walter's left side of the chest. Right through his heart.

Walter gasped an exasperated cry. His eyes widened in shock, in pain. He retched an uneasy noise from his mouth; his body quickly became derived of energy. White Cloak waited. The world itself…waited. Walter's frozen expression remained thoughtless, emotionless on his face. Was it a lost chance of life? Was he really… dead?

Suspiciously, the puddle of water began to stir behind White Cloak. Then, the water began to strive upward towards the air, forming and twisting into another body that wrapped an arm around White Cloak. The water slowly began to form itself into a body, then drenched itself in solid features and color. A headlock was successful around White Cloak; Walter scowled a bit victoriously, growling hatefully a bit towards White Cloak as he kept his head tight in his arm. "I'm the real one!" Walter growled from clenched teeth. Water began to crawl from the arm and around White Cloak's hood, wrapped around his neck like a film, a suffocating film, and spread to his chin, his features that were now visible silhouettes of water. A straining voice muttered a throttling beginning. Walter continued the above-water drowning of White Cloak. He was confident to win.

"I told you… I'm not losing to you," White Cloak choked. His body began to glow effervescently, darkly in a red radiation of luminary force. Walter stopped a bit, kept the headlock mindlessly, now uselessly. His eyes widened bit from shock. White Cloak's arms lay limp now, letting the glowing red and orange take over him, engulf him in the light. "You're going to die, I can promise you that, Walter," White Cloak gasped. Walter had no time to move. He had no time to think. The light burst. The body burst – into an enormous explosion of blistering noise and crashing sound. A huge explosion engulfed the two of them. And left their presences… gone.


	125. Chapter 125

The hissing smoke lusted for dawn, it required it. The thirst of trees carved their nourishment, the leaves that waited so effervescently, evanescently began to wither from impatience, intolerance of the constant postponing of crave. The cool air sizzled itself with self-induced mirages, tired of yearning for the light of warmth from that hopeful sun. Morning's rendezvous was late. The sifting cloud of smog crawled through the imminent end of the funeral of night, shadows lurking, waiting, spying on nature and its well-hidden secrets. Darkness began to erode away with the coming of a new time, the beginning of a new setting that seemed to slowly progress, slowly crawl towards the horizon, and out into the sky. It just seemed to have a little trouble doing so; it had no assistance.

The surrounding trees seemed to isolate the explosion into solitaire, quarantining it as if it were of miasmatic properties. The hissing brown beckoned the morning with a threatening dance towards the sky. The ground a few feet from the place of the explosion began to deform. It twisted unsightly, churning into whirls as chunks of it emerged out and molded upward, molded itself into a body. It brought arms, separated legs, and chocked a head. The color of ground remained in it, a moving statue of some sort. Then, the body brought itself out of the ground, and out of its discolored earthy appearance, and into a thin, stainless material of white.

"How disappointing," White Cloak rasped as he brought his back straight. "I expected more," he spoke over the rising smoke. The smell of dust was in the air, spilled and tainted it for the morning to clear away later.

"Suidangan!" a voice shouted from behind White Cloak, echoing from the darkness the trees had built together, constructed together as time passed on, and as their heads became higher. Slight bullets of strong-pressured water burst from the dark, and missed White Cloak just barely as he dodged to the left. The bullets crashed to the ground horridly, snapping the grounded rocks in two and blistering in their own pop of a noise. Still faltering to the left, the real Walter seemed to come from nowhere, from the left. White Cloak could not move. A blow from the left sent the enemy to the right, and fading into nonexistence. Another clone it was. Walter cursed his luck.

From the continually rising smoke of cloud that seemed to dominate as the seconds had passed, a thick, sharp bone burst from the brown and towards Walter. The Minor noticed immediately, and dodged accordingly. The bone plummeted into a nearby tree; it punctured right through it. Walter gulped at the enormous pressure. It was higher than that of his aquatic bullets. A figure began to emerge from the non-toxic mist. White Cloak stepped out, easily, non-suspensively. "I suppose you're the real one this time?" White Cloak rasped loudly, his voice crisp.

"I guess you're the real one, too, then?" Walter disregarded the question asked. He shifted his position just in case; you couldn't be too careful with White Cloak. He hid a confident smirk.

"The first one that fought you was always the real one; the one that blew up," White Cloak explained. And all this time, Walter had thought it was just one clone after another. Walter was right about this guy all along; he was tricky. Very tricky. He didn't know if he could handle him. Walter faked a scoff. "Walter," White Cloak called out to him. He brought his hands down to his side, in sign of no planned offense, no attempted defense. Walter found this rather peculiar, and brought his defenses down somewhat as well. "I've told you time and time again that you are weak, and you have no chance of getting stronger if you stay with the rest of the Minors. If you still choose to not believe," White Cloak began. "Just look at how many clones you needed to make compared to the ones I needed to make and the ones you did to match up to me."

Walter had to admit, White Cloak had a point. Walter needed to trick him four times and each time he either saw through it or knew what to do just in case. White Cloak needed two tricks, and Walter had just barely escaped each one by thinking quickly. He sneered at the truth, as if denying accepting it as what had actually happened. "Do you really think you're still strong?" White Cloak asked. Walter didn't know anymore, to be truthful. "I don't want to hurt you, Walter." The sentence seemed strange coming from his voice, he, who had murdered countless people for power, for fun. Just like Walter's aunt and uncle. The thought of the two made him scarce of ease; he spat at them. "Just listen to what I have to say," White Cloak suggested.

Walter scoffed. "And why should I? You're an enemy; that's all I need to know," he answered. "In other words, no, I _won't _listen to what you have to say; it'll just be a waste of time for me," he growled. "Besides, why should I listen to listen to what you have to say; it'll just be a waste of time for me," he growled. "Besides, why should I listen to _you_?" he asked. He wasn't really looking for an answer to that one.

"Now, calm down," White Cloak insisted. Why was he speaking so nicely? Something was out of balance. "Just listen is all I'm asking," he insisted.

"No!" Walter denied more angrily this time. "Why should I listen to you!?" he repeated. "Why!? You're psychotic!" he accused.

"Just listen!" White Cloak snapped. With a swing of an arm, a capturing net of bone burst through the enemy's palm of hand, and rushed through the air. The sight being a surprise, Walter breathed sharply in suddenness, the claw of bone coming in on him. Quickly, he thought of another way to get out; swiftly, he jumped away and dodged to the left. The bone claw crashed right into the tree where he had been before, and broke it away from its feet. Walter was awestruck at the amazing force; it was one of the smallest tricks White Cloak could do. A part of him told Walter to stand up to him. Another part told him to run away for his life. Dust blew everywhere, erupting from the scene of calcium hardness and wooden body. White Cloak zoomed to Walter before he could get back up on his feet. He attempted to cut his face with a bone dagger protruding from his hand. Walter dodged quickly once again, and, falling for White Cloak's plan all along, the enemy made a blow to his face, sending him to another nearby tree.

Walter's body landed against the bark with a clatter of spinal column. He yelped out from pain, calling out to dawn for the silent voices of nature that had lost their vocabulary. He winced horridly, his body weakened for just a few impaired seconds. White Cloak quickly brought himself to Walter's front, and put his hand over the boy's neck. He tightened it, ready to choke him. Walter strained a bit; it was no use. That cold, evil touch just put him in a stable moment of fear. His mind wandered away from use.

"Don't resist," White Cloak whispered calmly. Walter seemed to follow immediately. He didn't know why. Maybe… he was just hoping he wouldn't die? "Just listen…" he whispered into his ear once more darkly, calmly, sleepily. Walter's body soon drained of all energy, of all resistance. Restraint was out of the question now. Again, he didn't know why. "The images you saw…" White Cloak rasped into his ears, his hot breath washing over his cheeks, scentless, without a trace of humaneness. "The ones that keep repeating in your mind over and over and over again," he made Walter listen. "The pain of this world, the pain that many factors have resulted in, have helped in creating."

Walter breathed heavily, barely through seeping teeth. His eyes fluttered slightly, wanting to close, wanting to leave consciousness and life as it was. White Cloak's voice was a lullaby. "Those were the things parts of society have caused us. I'm sure you realize this by now," White Cloak continued. Walter suddenly remembered the images. The black and white images of blood, of murder, of tears, of hell on earth. Yes, White Cloak was right, he decided half-consciously. He was right about… _everything_. "You see, Walter," White Cloak began to change, still holding his neck against the tree, restraining him even though he now made no effort to pull away. "I believe that the world, as in nature itself, from the beginning of time has been trying to achieve a world without a pain, a world of utopia, where nothing bad happens, no pain is dealt, no pain is received."

Walter nodded halfheartedly. He was listening to his words, somewhat, but inside, he really didn't care. He didn't care about White Cloak's philosophies of psychosis inducement. He didn't care about White Cloak. He hated White Cloak. But something about him just nodded, something that sucked up to White Cloak. "However, things like the Council and the rest of the Minors – they're in the way. They're interfering with the process of life, Walter."

Walter took a while to adjust. "Then…" he whispered lowly, weakly. "What about me…? Aren't I… a Minor, too?" he asked.

"Oh, you're special," White Cloak answered quickly. Walter widened his eyes a bit in surprise. "Why do you think I'm always after you and you only, Walter? You have a pain I understand; you are someone I can connect with," he whispered deeply into the boy's thoughts. "You see, my plan was never to rule the world with powers similar to yours, or any of the other Minors. Trust me, if I had wanted them from the beginning, I would have gotten them before that stupid child. Do you really believe that a ten year old boy could stand up to me?" he chuckled.

"Then why?" Walter asked in a bare murmur of white voice. "Why did you open the scroll containing our powers at all…? What was the point?"

"Simple. Because I knew I had to release the powers in order to get rid of them, and to get life back on track. However – you, you're different from them. You don't seem to be getting in the way at all," White Cloak whispered. "However, I must admit, yes, at one time, when I went after the actual young Councils themselves, I wanted to rule the world at that time. But, that dream is long gone from now. I've changed my mind about things. About life. Now, my only goal is to place the world back on the tracks that lead all the way to utopia." Walter didn't know what to say; he found himself speechless.

"You want it, too," White Cloak began. "Don't you? You want to release yourself from the pain that is your past, that forever scars you. And you can do that only with power; the powerful are never hurt. It is logic, Walter," he whispered. "I'm sure you recognize that already. However, you don't have the power you need yet. You're weak, Walter. _Too_ weak. You're _too_ weak to find your vengeance of your aunt and uncle, the goal you had told me of once before. You're too weak, it's hopeless. You'll never get your revenge."

Walter was found speechless. He understood everything White Cloak said. Yet he still hated him; he still labeled him psychotic, out of his mind. He was just scared beyond belief now. Scared, it was the feeling he felt. Suddenly, from behind, a cracking of air began, a crisping of field. White Cloak turned to find Teresa breaking through the force field as everyone watched the whole thing fall apart into uselessness. "So it seems they were strong enough to break through the first level of my field abilities. The power isn't perfected yet, anyways. Nothing less is expected from the strongest element, Mind. I can't even think to duplicate it. Such a thing is sad," White Cloak rasped to himself.

The purple force field energy whisked itself away as Teresa fell to the floor from exhaustion. A sudden burst of pain pierced through her mind, and pulsed throughout her body. Her mental stability was losing itself once again; would there be another outburst? She hated the fact that on occasion, this would happen. She tried to restrain it; she didn't know how well she was doing. She just groaned in difficulty. At her side, no other Minor was there. No presence was by her. What had happened?

As White Cloak turned back to Walter, something was caught in the corner of his eye. A light flickering of brightness of some sort. Kahibi Eric rushed to White Cloak, reeling in a punch on flames. White Cloak dodged out of the way and clutched Eric's wrist to stop the attack. Eric seemed surprised. The cold, powerful touch of White Cloak seemed to bring Eric's insides to their knees. "Try something else next time," White Cloak rasped in suggestion. "Your flames give it away, Fire Minor." The cackling flames hissed themselves out by White Cloak's touch. Eric still couldn't seem to believe it. He couldn't move. He was caught. Walter couldn't seem to do anything, either.

"So, Walter," White Cloak scraped his voice. "You hadn't believed me the many times I told you that the Minors are weaker than you are; you won't believe me when I tell you I am capable of teaching you so much more than this damned place offers," White Cloak went on. "This time, I'll show you its true, by harming your beloved teammate," White Cloak turned to Eric. The confident structure followed by the shock in his face was priceless.

Walter said one thing, and one thing only as his head bowed to the ground, hiding in shade. His lips moved uncomfortably as he said it. "He's not beloved," he murmured quietly. White Cloak didn't seem to hear. The foe brought Eric closer and reeled in a punch. The blow sent the boy flying through the trees rapidly, the punch so strong it blew him away into the distance where he couldn't even very well be seen. White Cloak followed with a dart of thick, sharp needle. It flew with him almost, and while flying in midair, Eric could do nothing about it, but stare.

As Eric crashed into the body of a tall, stark of a tree, the slice of bone followed, and cut clean right into his chest next to his right shoulder. He called out in pain, the bone stabbed right into him and pinning him against the tree, making sure he stayed there. The wound soon began to leak blood.

Turning back to Walter, White Cloak began his offers again. "I'll give you one last chance," White Cloak informed him. "Will you join me? Yes, or no?" he rasped deeply, darkly. The clouds of dawn began to rise as time went on. The trees rustled unsightly, the blades of grass tickled the air for a catch of gossip, full of disbelief as they received the message.

Walter didn't need to think about the answer. "No! Hell, I won't!" Walter practically screamed into the foe's face, braving up to him. White Cloak scoffed and brought his right hand out. The fingers drew out sharp bones and formed claws. Walter wasn't afraid.

"Fine, then," White Cloak answered. "If you insist." He struck. The claw missed purposely, puncturing five deep holes into the tree behind the Minor, the hand clasped around his neck and taking control of him. Taking Walter's neck, he threw him across the forest and sent him flying past millions of trees that seemed to run past him, leave him behind in their apparent motion of escape. Soon, Walter found himself on the ground, breathing heavily for he had been slowly suffocating as White Cloak found his way to his throat. He was next to Teresa, who seemed to be having mental troubles at the time. A force field enclosed around them, invisibly; they were locked in a translucent bubble.

"Trust me, Walter," White Cloak called out. "If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago," he informed. "You should think about that." White Cloak walked to a tree, and began talking the rest of it. "You shouldn't get too reckless in that bubble of yours," he suggested. "It lacks an open resource of air; the air you have now is the air you're going to breathe for the next few minutes. Also, I've layered it ten times over. It shouldn't be fragile to that girl's force fields as much as before. Even if she did succeed in breaking out, the minutes you have left of air will expire before that happens." White Cloak now disappeared into the tree, walking right into it as if it were a door to him, a portal with the threshold of air. His presence was soon gone; the echoes of his voice still lingered about Walter's ears.

Walter sighed deeply, drawing it out in exasperation. He fixed himself in the bubble of confinement and sat down comfortably, and waited. Teresa faltered. Her body stopped shaking, her eyes stopped squinting. Her stability returned, and slowly, her body's abilities were brought back to norm, to consciousness. She held herself for warmth, for comfort. She was still shaken by the sudden attack she had so suddenly, so weirdly at the wrong time. That face… she thought of the apparition she had fought during the Swamp of Mystery, that smiling, crescent mask full of deviation and hell. She shuddered slightly at the thought of him. It was the same "him" as the one who killed her first boyfriend, and his family, and all her friends. Why does it keep coming back to haunt me? I killed him, didn't I? Teresa thought. The memory was unclear. Fear blossomed inside her. Then, an image of Eric. She returned to normal. Just the blatant thought of that boy brought her ease, a sense of confidence.

"We're going to suffocate in here," Walter told her. "The air is thinning slowly as he take our last, small breaths," he informed. He looked to the dome of the solitary confinement around them. The air bubbled, fizzed unnaturally through the screen of unstable transparency.

"No," Teresa answered. Slowly, the girl brought herself to her feet. "I can get us out of here," she suggested confidently.

"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear White Cloak say that it's no use trying?" Walter scolded.

"No!" Teresa denied it. "I'm still trying!" Teresa began to get to work. Her eyes began to glow eerily with purple; her fingers glowering as well as the force field energy began to dig through the ten layers that overlapped each other thickly, skillfully, and without waste. Purpled auras of energy began to surround her, and Walter just sighed, already given up despite the scarce of time passed.

He looked out to the trees that swayed mindlessly, uselessly that once held a sort of passion, a sort of use in the world that Walter once thought he had. Now, nothing made sense to him anymore. White Cloak could've killed me any time he wanted to, Walter figured. There must be a reason why he didn't. That reason must be him thinking that I'll still join him in the future. Well, he's wrong! Walter demanded. I'm not even going to consider it! Maybe he as well ought to have killed me back then; there's no point in wasting time! The ripping noise of force field energy against force field was crisping in his ears.

"Why are you even trying?" Walter turned to Teresa suddenly, scoffing at her efforts and the look on her face that told herself she would definitely get through the thing Walter knew she couldn't. "You're wasting your energy! Just sit down and wait to die."

"No! I can't give up!" Teresa demanded of herself. "I can't leave Eric to die without even making an effort about it! Just because I'm trapped in a hopeless situation is not an excuse for letting someone I…" Teresa seemed to lose the word there. She held a look of shock over her face. Walter seemed piqued, a bit confused. "I…_care_ about," Teresa finished the sentence rather incongruously in tone with the beginning of the sentence.

"Why do you care? Why do you care about Eric, or where your life is headed if you do get out of this thing?" Walter asked, not knowing the answer himself. He has always waited for an answer to that question.

"Because," Teresa began calmly. She became one of solemnity in an unwarned instant. "He's a relationship I'm not going to let go without a fight!" she declared. More energy poured into her effort. "Otherwise, I'm allowing myself to get hurt. I'm not going to live with the guilt of not trying hard enough to help my friend!" she took after Eric's words and actions.

"How pointless!" Walter shouted. Teresa gasped a bit in shock. "You think that just because you're powerful enough to defend your relationships with other people, you'll be able to escape pain?" Walter scorned. He made a low scowl on his face of disapproval. "There are so many more things in this world that can cause pain, not just broken relationships! Think about it; Eric is wrong, you shouldn't follow what he says," he let his tone trail away into calmness. Teresa stopped.

The girl let her arms fall back to her side. She let the force field energy wisp away into nothingness and let the force field she was so opposed to rebuild itself in its broken layers. She fell to her knees; eyes still wide open, and bowed her head into darkness, letting her hair fall over her. She said not another word, she thought not another thing. Then… who is right? Eric says this thing… Walter says another. They both make sense… they're both opposites. Which one... do I believe? Teresa felt like crying. Which one...? She let herself fall into depression as she decided to just give up, and die right there. The silent night moaned for them. They would not get to experience the ceremony of dawn after all.


	126. Chapter 126

The night was cold. It never seemed to expire in its span of life, never even gave the slightest chance of withering, of dwindling into sunrise. The moon's bids of farewell lasted forever, like centuries filled into one time, one set of twelve hours that usually built up in darkness, and sunk down into dawn. But this time, it was as if something had malfunctioned, for the night kept getting farther and farther away from death, darker and darker as the hands of time proceeded with their only eternal task. Trees withheld their hopes of the future, their blossoming dreams, their arsenal of leaves ready to make a wish, ready to be let go. The hearsay of rumored gasps and winds shook trees in their momentary instance, taking them by surprise as the breeze spelled the letters of shock for them.

The dirt remained soft unfelt by the fingers of desperation, untouched by the bare senses of reality. Skies sailed by, hoping, wishing it was soon morning, praying that the light of dawn would soon come upon their eyes, fill them with certainty that was once lost. Prayers of stars set their sights upon the ground below, belittlingly, silently, mindlessly. Kahibi Eric's muscular build shot with pain, throbbing with the hurt the slash of bone had caused by striking right through him. Grass blades surrounded him, leaning away from him, scared to catch drops of blood. Eric, uneasily, brought a hand to the right side of his chest, fingers searching, sifting for comfort, for ease, grasping half mindedly at the bone. Even touching him pushed him towards comfort's edge.

He tried not to groan. He tried not to utter a low cry of severe agony from his braying, defenseless lips, a trait he denied was true. It was one of the ways he got by as he proceeded slowly in removing the bone shard from his chest, feeling the once cold bone slide against his muscles inside, his flesh. It was sickening; it filled the air with nauseating stenches. He winced, his teeth clenched horridly as the bone slid slowly out, his arms shaking in lack of stability, feeling the cool night enter the punctured hole into his body. He took steady breaths; it hurt a bit to do so. He suddenly felt week all over, shuddering at the cool bone he had removed, feeling his own fingers melt the eerie iciness away and warm it to its other side's equal, reddened with blood, warmed from the insides of a boy's body. He threw it down to the floor almost immediately after regaining his strength. As if he weren't hurt badly enough.

He was no longer pinned to the tree, but something in him kept him there, kept him magnetized to the stalk of a tree, thin with coolness, hard with cragged, grayed wood. It was the yearn for comfort, the stark scolding of mind upon body that told him that even if he were to be after the rescue of Teresa and Walter, whose voices and conversations echoed through the trees, amplified by that field trap of theirs, that told him he had to at least take a while to breathe, a moment of rest. A short moment, Eric made it become. His legs stumbled weakly, as if they had lost the power to walk, or had forgotten what walking was.

Now, the cool night began to beg him to move, draw him out towards the forest. And he, being the compliant one for he wanted to do just the same, forced a return of energy, a comeback of legs. Slowly, he began to pace his feet against the cool, dirt ground. No click of slipper made a small crack through the forest. He leaned forward, took a step to ensure his non-falling. He seeped a cold, sharp air as he tried hard to wipe his thoughts of that wound leaking out more blood than was allowed by standards for safety and that pain that could come, the emptiness in his chest that shot right through him. It was like a piece of him was missing; his body didn't feel right. It didn't act right anymore because of the strange abnormality that should have been considered a minor distraction, a small piece of miniscule importance. He took another step outward. This time, his feet's intervals grew somewhat shorter, somewhat quicker. They crunched grass now, a rising of energy input. Then, slowly, with distorted figure of body, he continued on to the forest, and followed the empty, dirt path where he knew Teresa and Walter were waiting for him, whether they wanted to or not. I'm not letting something stupid like a wound get in the way, Eric told himself, assured himself. I won't! It's not an excuse… it's not an excuse. And the moon faraway until the edge of the horizon watched, slowly, taking its time to settle before falling, rooting for him, cheering for _him_.

PoVS

The false sun blistered upon the sky, baking the soft, fragile dunes of sand into a golden-brown crisp. The cloudless day sizzled with heat, for it had no protection today, no sunscreen of future precipitation to wear. The whirling winds mixed records of gossip, traded mindlessly, too quickly in hype, words being mixed into distorted messages of roars and howls of breeze. This wind of gossip was truly fake, as if this world was not fake as is all ready. It was not natural, in other words, for Jeremy, if you could still call this monstrosity the innocent ten year old boy everyone had used to known as the shyest, quietest of them all. The ground-shaking roars of demonic hell filled the fake-filled savannah of mountain after mountain of sand. No life was anywhere, no signs of weeds, of cacti.

The hot, forked sun toasted the land to an intense summer's crisp, constantly kissing the land with affectionate heat that turned loathsome, the ground currently infatuated in a spellbinding of scarce comfort, the ninety-degree breath of the sun. Perspiration was frequent here; if you didn't have it, you'd be considered inhuman. The whorled winds flurried about the area like a tornado, surrounding Jeremy as if it were his assistance, as if he had used too much power. The wind carried sediment of sand, slivers of it divided amongst the low whirlwinds of it. It got into eyes, distractingly, annoyingly. It was just another obstacle.

Sweat lingered at the side of a redhead's face, one who had lived beyond his years, one who lived off of immortality and immortality only; the contract of gods kept him alive. His face kept away from the sun, a position showing desperation of shade, demise of comfort. Still, even so, rectangular glasses worn by this being glimmered with reflected light in his frontal shade, the perspiration coming down the side of his face and to his chin, soon dangling for life, for it had gone too far beyond risk. He stood over the body, watching it, mindlessly, caring for it as the burden of worrying about Jeremy right behind him and the swirling wind was left behind him, covered by Minoa's skillful techniques.

The looked after this boy's body, watched it lay still and weak, for he had exhausted himself out of power, out of consciousness. He had worked extremely hard; the new technique taught to him by Kakori had been to dangerous; his body had not gotten used to it yet, just like most of the other Minors. A light glow of hands from Shintenmaru's hands scanned over the wounds with a bright glow of yellow energy, glowing luminously with that pale-white glow surrounded in the spherical aura of gold. The healing seemed to take slow effect.

Then, the body coughed, returning slightly to his state of consciousness, regaining just a sliver of it, a bare piece just enough so that he was allowed to cough. The boy's body gave great signs of difficulty while lying on the hot underlying sand that rested his face with heat, brought his face excessive, unnecessary and unwanted warmth. But he didn't know that. He didn't have to, either. The cough was so human, so alive; Shintenmaru seemed assured now. He gave a low sign of relief, but he knew the boy who lay before him wasn't completely safe yet from damage. "Dylan… can you hear me?" Shintenmaru murmured softly to the boy on the ground with his head turned away, weakly, gracefully. His voice seemed to carry away with the swirls of wind.

No sound answered him; nothing but the shouting, drowned voices upon the wind and the wind itself, constantly wheeling around the scene in a circle of danger, a circle of limits. Next, another weak, difficult cough answered him. This time, Shintenmaru seemed displeased. This isn't good, the Council notified seriously, a stern look washing over his face. "Dylan," he called out to the boy once again. No movement. No noise. No breathing. No answer.

Meanwhile, in the background, Minoa stood carefully, watching Jeremy's every move while her eyes grew extremely purple; her hair whisking away at the defiance of gravity she herself created. Her teeth were tightly clenched, ready to help, ready to work. Hanabikai reeled around Jeremy, trailing around him as if in some childish game, blasting various attacks at him just to be sucked up by sudden creations of black holes. A sickening roar cracked from Jeremy's now braying voice. It was as if something had possessed him. The sand continued to whirl dangerously; Hanabikai dodged each one suspiciously in movement. "Protect us from the sand!!" he demanded a bit loudly over the whirling winds.

Minoa followed, bringing herself up to higher standard. We've taken too long fighting, Shintenmaru thought as he cared for Dylan's wounds. He couldn't find anyway to heal him. Also, this one's hurt, he went on. We've at least taken forty times switching; we're getting no where. Jeremy hasn't worn down even in the slightest bit. On top of that, we're all too tired to go on. We'll have to stop this battle now; before anyone else gets hurt, Shintenmaru assured himself. "Stop!" Shintenmaru declared out of nowhere.

"What?" Lance called out to Shintenmaru.

"We're ending it here," Shintenmaru declared as he got back up on his feet to stand straightly, bringing Dylan's body onto his shoulder for support. Surprised looks flashed all around. "People are too injured in this group; we don't have enough people to replace now," Shintenmaru explained. "Come, let's go; we can't waste any more time here."

"What?" Lance rebelled. "No way! You're not seriously thinking about leaving Jeremy all alone about this!" Lance called out.

"We have no choice in the matter for now," Shintenmaru answered gruffly. "We have to take our leave before we endanger ourselves anymore," he began his next few sentences abruptly. "Of course I care for Jeremy; he is someone the Council holds dear to us, something more than you would think," Shintenmaru said swiftly. "However, despite the current circumstances of emotion, Lance, which I'm begging you to understand and be compliant with us about, we must take our leave. We have to go. We will come back another time."

"But -" Lance began again. His voice was carried by the whirlpool of wind and brought to Shintenmaru in the process.

He was cut off. "Let's go!" Shintenmaru turned eager. Lance was taken by surprise. He gulped nervously as he squinted into the air, carefully making sure that no sand entered his eyes. A look of uncertainty washed over his face. The council froze. They seemed indecisive as well. The battle continued.

"No!" Lance resisted with hints of anger. "What about Jeremy?" Lance asked once more. "Shouldn't we focus on saving him?! Wasn't _that _our one and only goal of choosing Dylan and I for this? Are you really going to make us abandon everything just for our safety?"

"No!" Shintenmaru stopped Lance's burst. "We've worried long enough for Jeremy! If we don't stop now, we'll all die, Lance. Do you hear me? Do you hear my voice?" Shintenmaru demanded.

"Lance," Shihou called to him. "You seem rather concerned for Jeremy despite the short amount of time you had to spend with him. Why?" she asked, voice rather piqued.

Lance scowled. "What if I _want_ to get to know him better, huh?" he growled. "What if I _haven't_ had enough time with him? Doesn't he get a chance to live just like everyone else, huh? What if he dies when we just leave him alone, huh!?" Lance's growls turned to shouts.

"Lance!" Shintenmaru shouted demandingly. "If we don't leave right _now_, Dylan is the one who's not going to have a chance to live, Dylan is the one that's going to die because you want to continue a mission you have a very well low of a chance of succeeding. Is that what you want!? Consider it, Lance! Think about it!" Shintenmaru shouted. Lance seemed quiet now; his eyes were frozen in indecisiveness now. The Council just stared. "Lance," Shintenmaru began in a more quiet tone now. "I know what you're saying, and I respect your wishes. But, your wishes at the time are not the right thing to do," he told the silver-haired boy. "Take a look at Daniel and consider his condition. His body is fragile to time and damage. There will always be another time to come after Jeremy. He will just remain in this part of Minoa's dimension until we find a more _efficient _way of doing things." Shintenmaru waited for the answer. There was none; just a scowl of indecisiveness. "Lance?" he asked quietly.

Lance's scowl turned into a growl. He turned to see Jeremy, rotting in personality, spoiling of divinity and grace. His hair, ruffled and whistled and unorganized as they whipped at each other, hatefully, disgustingly, sickened at each other's throats, beings. Mouth was wide open, mouth that hid that once shied smile of an innocent child, now sucking in enormous amounts of endless air in a tremendous shield of black hole emptiness. Eyes were blackened out, darkened into nothingness, guilt; for once they had been innocently white, pale, the true meaning of purity. He wanted to save that kid. He wanted to get to know him; to rescue him.

But then he saw Dylan. He saw him, lying there, motionlessly, uselessly. He was helpless, body over Shintenmaru's hold. He tried to decide between the two. But which one had he all ready been closer to? Dylan. It was inevitable, the answer. But the answer made Lance feel a bit guilty. However, he could not help it at all. He swallowed hard, resisted to say the answer. The Council waited for it. Then, Lance turned back to Jeremy. He shot his last shot of trial; he let his powers decide. The needle shot through the air, and just a foot away from Jeremy did the metallic needle land sharply into the sand. Lance gave a sigh, and turned back to the councils. "Let's go," he said depressively.

PoVS

The night was cold; it remained cold. Teresa sat depressively, darkly in her own gloom as she sat by Walter, both just waiting for their torture of suffocation to end, waiting for the air to run out and dwindle into nothing but exasperated oxygen, and for their death. The night blanked of patience. It soon would end. Walter took a long, exhilarated sigh; he was playing his luck. He looked to the sky, the stars above that danced around each other, sewed each other into the blanket of darkened night of no color, no life. The twinkling star represented one wish, a random wish placed into representation of anyone in the world, whether it is a prayer of an elderly priest, or the selfish wishes of greedy, unknowing child just five years of age. They were all of equality, all of one needle, one syringe. And they sewed around each other, dodging each other in this game of life, wrapping around to create webs of bound fabric; together, they sewed the wishes of life, the hopes and dreams of the young and old, for no one was excluded, not even the dead.

And one of the stars out there was Walter's. His selfish but not so selfish dreams of bringing out his own revenge, spilling the horror he had once been dealt to those who had once dealt to him. This was his wish. And no more did it shine out than any other star, just a bit shinier was it; more noticeable in the sky it was. He searched for it, and found it, right in the first layer of clothing, of the fabric that made _his_ wishes. It was an early wish; it was first priority, an important thread that majored the most sewn. This was his only goal for now. He was confident it would remain that way until the end of his life; or until he had no use in his life anymore, no purpose. He sighed once more. He seemed to be pulling his death closer on the timeline of his life. Did he want to die? Didn't he want revenge? True. But what could he do now? Eric was probably all ready dead, unconscious and spilling blood all over the place somewhere. All Teresa and Walter could do was cry, but they found such things useless. They solved nothing. So they waited, a bit more patiently than others would.

Teresa, on the other hand, when she looked to the sky, found three brightest stars. There had been once before just a single twinkling star in her world, a single guidance, a lonesome path that she _knew_ she had to take because she thought it was the only way. However, as time passed on, new stars met her, brought her their comfort. It was Eric, whose star began to shine more and more on her, next to her, giving her another opportunity. And she had decided to take that path. However, so early in the path did she meet a third shining star, a third needle that majored in the blanket of life itself as well? It was Walter, who made a clear point just before, and now, not knowing which road to take, for it was still early to turn back, she felt like crying, she felt like not choosing any of them at all, and just die herself. Which is exactly why she waited, and exactly why she didn't mind Walter taking long, carefree breaths.

However, what would one really do if they found themselves in any two positions similar to these? The two had gone through so much; Teresa and Walter, not to mention Eric, who Walter doubted was on the way. Teresa didn't care what happened at this point. She didn't know what to believe, what to follow, each opportunity had its benefits, its doubts. Disgustingly, Walter spat at his life. Teresa thought everything until now was a mistake. Eric, he just wouldn't give up. These three were the most lost, the most important in the Minors, seemingly. And their lives were all in danger. What could possibly give them hope now? What could possibly jump start their new day into sunrise of dawn, morning of a new beginning? Death, of course.

However, Eric denied that fact. It wasn't the only way to do it. The dark stars twinkled lightly, innocently in opportunity. Teresa had given up on opportunity. Walter clung on to it; it was the only reason he lived. The night stirred. The cool airs of dawn began to arrive, but it was too late. Teresa waited. Walter waited. Waited forever… forever… forever…

When would their awaited death come? Eric, Teresa thought. You told me that I'd be all right if I was strong enough to help my friends. You proved to me that if I cared about my relations enough, they wouldn't get destroyed; and I wouldn't get hurt. However, Eric, Walter proved you wrong. He said… he said that there are more things in the world that cause pain other than emotional heartbreak. But the old me begs to differ with both. Isn't it always other people who end up harming us? Wouldn't our lives be different if we just stayed out of contact from others and not letting ourselves get hurt? Wouldn't life be so much safer, more enjoyable like that? Or, is it more enjoyable spending it with the ones you love, the ones you grew up with. Because I'll admit one thing, it's nearly impossible to grow up as a loner without meeting or even talking to anyone. What a miserable, boring life, to never hear your voice for you had no one to talk to, never hearing your own footsteps for you did not even recognize your own presence, even though it was the only own beside you.

Teresa contemplated. She found herself leaning more towards Eric's point of view. However, was he right? It's decided, Teresa thought. I'll believe Eric… if he proves his point one more time. We should only have about three minutes left until Walter and I die, and if he keeps breathing heavily like that on purpose, pushing our lucks, then Eric will have even a shorter time. Are you even coming, Eric? Teresa thought. She laughed at herself, thinking that Eric could even hear her thoughts. She looked at the sky as she thought. Eric, are you really going to stand up for what you believe for again, or was all that talk just talk, just words that left their meaning long ago before they had left your mouth themselves? Was it just a bundle of syllables placed together to make-believe its own sense? I don't know, Teresa told herself. Why don't you prove it to me, big guy? Maybe then, I'll start believing in you again. Maybe then, we won't have such a hard time. Me, especially. And she looked to the dark sky. She watched the stars twinkle above, farther and farther away as she felt her lungs lose their air, lose their ease. And she slowly nodded off without noticing it, trying her hardest to keep her eyes on the brightest stars in the sky, the trio of stars that were so close together, so similar but so divided amongst differences, the three lost paths in her life that would soon fade away as the imminence of morning became no more but a presence, and fade away into invisibility, nonexistence, nothing more but a lost memory; along with her.


	127. Chapter 127

The night had remained silent, remained stark and eerie, waiting with its everlasting patience, for arrival of morn, the coming of dawn, waiting out the imminence of death. But something would not let its wishes become reality; something tried to fake dawn, create a false interpretation of the beginning of morning. It was a small flame to the side, a flame that brought unnoticed presence, unnoted entrance. A light speck of flame caught Teresa's eye, a low flicker of bright, a soft whisper of flame. Then, it was a hammering pounce of fist, a clang of energy that bounced right of the translucent walls. Cocked heads turned with alarm. The fist had drawn back; the hand hissed with flame.

It seemed a lone star in the sky was beginning to grow brighter, and stand out above the rest. Teresa turned to the side, and found someone – someone familiar with the fists of a burning confidence and passion never giving up, a never-ending pounding against the throttling walls of the invisible hemisphere that was to soon take the lives of two, lost people that had apparently given up. "Eric!" Teresa called out her name in shock. It was as if at the mention of his name even in her thoughts did he come right away; it was like he had heard her thoughts, answered her request, her prayerful suggestion, condition.

He kept attacking the dome of imprisonment, trying to get the two out before it was too late; they didn't have much time left. They had bare minutes, in fact. He managed to get that bone out of his body, Walter realized as he watched, uninterested, carefree. Normally, people would cheer, lift in spirits at the sight of a hopeful sprite come to rescue them. Walter seemed drowned in complete indifference for his life's condition. Teresa was just shocked; she had no time to cheer. "I told you I wouldn't give up," Eric gasped heavily in his exhilarated voice; that distance of slowed walking had worn him out. He picked up his head to let the two stare into his eyes, and find the truth, honesty in him. No change of emotion had come over Walter. Teresa smiled, just a bit. A tired smirk of Eric's hid away his exasperation just barely filling them away with calm-headedness. Although, he couldn't keep his lungs from breathing in heavy pants of breath.

He soon resumed his pouncing of flames, his attacks of confident fire that hit over and over again against the wall, seeming to do no damage whatsoever. However, it was the confidence that drove him, the iron will that never seemed to falter even the slightest, like it was locked, secured from impairment. Walter's eyes were filled with doubt, a long-built impeachment, it seemed, that glared from his brown, secretive eyes that seemed so shallow, so blatant and nothing, as if to say that what you saw was what you got. However, that wasn't the case. For those who knew, even the most barely, there was a whole another world under his eyes, deep into them, if you cared enough to dig. He seemed as if he were to say something of importance, of significance, syllables that meant more than they said. He scoffed, every so slightly below his voice that it was barely heard, even with the magnification of voice that droned from the walls of the echoing, bouncing invisible walls of great master camouflage.

"Why, Eric?" Walter's voice buzzed a bit too closely, as if three voices of his own were speaking the same things at the same time at the same place to the same person. Teresa turned to him, interest piqued. She wondered why he was speaking now. The sparseness of air did not call for such a situation. However, it just remained to fact that he really didn't care, not after all the wasteful sighs he had made in the dome, the normal, uncut breathing and speaking. Eric did not seem to falter; he heard his teammate, he just didn't give up. He had no time to stop, no time to decrease even in the slightest amount of effort, the slightest amount of added power and strength. His throws continued to pounce noisily against the invisible wall that did not seem to break the slightest. "Why are you even trying?" he raised his voice. "Why do you even care!?" he turned into a shout. Teresa noted he had gone overboard with his tone. She wondered if everything would be all right.

The punching continued. There was silence; no sound of voice. Just the clanging of fist against energy, the constant pounding of determination, the pulsing confidence that lingered around Eric, telling him what to say and when to say it. It was just that he was calmly thinking his answer in his mind, taking the answer and the question itself seriously. Walter waited all the same. "Because," Eric began out of the blue. Teresa listened cautiously, as if words were harmful. "You were wrong when you said what you did to Teresa a while ago," Eric answered. Teresa's eyes widened; Walter sneered from disbelief, a sarcastic glare added to his features.

The three had remembered what he said: _"Think about it; Eric is wrong. His advice is wrong…. You think just because you're strong enough to defend your relationships with others, you'll be able to escape pain? You're wrong! No matter how strong you are, you'll still feel pain; you'll still get hurt from bonds with others."_

"You think power will wash away pain, but it won't!" Eric told him. "You need bonds; you need people, your friends, and the ones that care about you to pull you through, or else you'll just remain stuck in the darkness forever! Is that what you want?" Eric continued to attack the shield. It wouldn't give.

"And what if you have no one to care for?" Walter snapped in a growl. Teresa froze. Eric's features froze as well; his energy levels were forcefully brought down from shock. Walter's teeth ground each other tightly, hatefully, his eyes flinching a bit, shuddering from his own beliefs that drove him into more and more confidence for his goals. "What if you don't have anyone to care for you, either?" he growled in a whisper, resentfully. Eric didn't know what to say. More or less, there was nothing he _could _say. It was a close moment of dead silence; no hoots of the runaway owls, no chirping of the imminent dawn birds. "Look, just," Walter turned his head, as if ashamed to face Eric. He scowled to the side, and then turned back to the red-clothed Minor. Eric shook his head, and began attacking the field with his flaming fists of confidence again. "Just, why, Eric, why?" Walter started again. "Why, of all people, are you caring about _me!?_ _I_ don't care about you!" Walter admitted. "I don't care about any of you, any of the Minors! I don't have a reason to! So why!?"

"Because I want to help you!" Eric growled back, now a bit angrily as he continued to blow at the force field. Teresa just stood there, watched, dumbfounded, not knowing which side to take, or if she should take any sides at all. What should she do? She wondered. How would she live her life from now on?

"I told you, Eric," Walter began again in a deeper, more monstrous growl, a more locked sense of hate on him. "You can't help me; you can't," his voice calmed now. His teeth unclenched themselves; his face unstressed their tightened features. He looked depressively towards the floor. "There are just some things you don't understand, Eric," he told him.

"No," Eric resisted, voice still caught in a growl. "You're wrong," he muttered. "I can help you, as long as you let me create with you a relation, a friendsh-" Walter cut him off before he could say the word.

"Stop," Walter said calmly now, seriously. His voice was cross, meaning nothing but emotional and stark genuineness. "Just stop." Eric sighed, stopping himself. It seemed that word was poisonous to Walter, as if hearing it made him sad, made him a reminder, a constant reminder of what he didn't have, the reminder of a fight between what he wanted to do, and what he felt like he had to do.

Eric, too, calmed his voice into normalcy. "Listen," he called to Walter, holding his palm over the surface of the shield, hoping to penetrate it with a burst of pressured flame. "I'll admit it, you may be right." Teresa and Walter jerked their heads up at the same time, eyes burst with shock. "With relationships with other people, at times, we'll succeed in life with them…" Eric began, readying to state the exception. At the same time he spoke those very words of succeeding in life with bonds, somewhere in the midst of breaking night and liberating dawn was two brothers, one redheaded, one intense blue, surrounded by a dead forest of trees. The redhead fell to the ground, exhausted from a job he wanted to think as a job well done, his brother coming to his side and patting him on his shoulder. He smiled from his tiredness, a smile of success.

"Sometimes we'll fail…" Eric went on. At this time, in another rippled world of everlasting sand dunes and swirling winds was a group of elders, elders that gave the appearance of twenty year olds, with two kids, that didn't seem too much younger than them. It was a gray-haired boy, looking sad with disappointment, and a white-haired boy, knocked unconsciousness, on the shoulder of one of the adults. The elder ones walked through a ripped vortex in the dimension, leaving the swirling winds of sand behind, leaving the roaring threat of demon behind in its own despair. And, before the silvered hair boy stepped in, he looked back, looked back at the child-demon with a deep sympathy. He thought of himself as nothing more now, not even able to rescue a poor child in need while something inside him was dominating him, killing him from the inside. Then, as the winds continued to gossip at the weak, helpless strands of hair, he turned, deciding it was no good, catching a last glimpse of a thrown, last-chance needle, and stepped right out of the swirling world of nightmare, out into a world where failure was a more realized feeling.

"But while we have those losses to deal with, those pains of heart," Eric continued pressing his palm closer onto the dome that trapped them. "Who will be there for us if we're alone, who will be there to help us back up from our failures for the next shot at success, who will be there to bring us into realization that we've been nothing but blinded all along, and could've died because of it…?"

As his words sunk into the minds of Walter, of Teresa and seemed to make complete and utmost sense, there was a deep, widened land that was filled with nothing but flattened surface, twelve monuments of gratitude. There was broken up ground, too, filled with lava, hissing with danger that was no longer a threat. There was an area that was webbed with black energy, and two bodies flying in the air, the second, obsidian-ized body wrapped around in the blackest of chains, and swung down towards the ground held by a blade. The blade, carrying the body downward into its plunge was held by skillful, brought back hands of recognition. The tough scowl returned for its owner's presence had been lost, the striking, dashing dark eyes that showed nothing but confidence, but strength and readiness. Those were the eyes that had been missing, until they were brought back by a certain being of idiocy that the fighter was very well grateful for now. And the chain plummeted; the body hammered into the ground with an enormous explosion of gray smoke. The black-clothed seventeen year old fell back down to the ground; the body that lay helplessly was done with, its armor rendered away into crumbs of power with no use left for them. The battle was over, and the brown-haired "idiot" put a hand of recognition on the black-haired boy's shoulder. The teammate looked behind him to catch that wide, friendly smile that he had once labeled as hyperactive. Now, he smiled back, in a small, casual smirk, with a small nod of gratitude, a cool narrowing of eyes representing nothing but acceptance.

"We need friends to make us realize and get back up on our feet," Eric concluded. "That's why I believe what I believe."

"Eric… I know you mean well, but…" Walter still denied. "You're still wrong. You still are unable to help me; it's too late. Much too late now," he told him. "I have my mind made up on what I want to do, what I have planned for my future," Walter spoke to Eric clearly. "And it doesn't involve you," he added.

Eric stopped for a while. Teresa wondered how he would react. Eric, not shaken in the least bit, or, at least, not seeming like it, looked down to the floor, face shaded over, eyes darkened as he bowed slightly, respectfully, pausing for just a few seconds. "And you really think…" Eric let his voice trail off. "You _really_ think that's going to stop _me_ from trying!?" Eric picked up his head in confidence to show his undying eyes, and clenched his fist as he pulled back another punch. Walter widened his eyes in shock. Teresa did the same, and she smiled. Walter had the look on his face of amazement. It never ceased to make him awestruck at the fact that Eric would never give up, despite what conditions he was put under. Then came in the punch. It crashed right into the dome with a clatter, shook the whole thing. Walter and Teresa found themselves surprised at the sudden increase in strength. Still holding that passionate, confident gaze, Eric brought another fist into the dome, fist set ablaze with strength.

Amazing, Walter thought, wide eyed. The punches… they've really grown in a matter of seconds… Walter realized, unable to pull away from his daze of amazement. His features were locked carefully, unable to change to anything else. He could barely swallow, breathe. Eric completely shook me, Walter noted that. He was lucky he could think. Just what is this guy…?

PoVS

The night was growing warmer, if not, definitely not cooler. The Takiato brothers sat together, exasperated out of their minds after their victory of battle. They sat at the closest tree with the shortest distance between each other. Daniel sighed, tiredly. "We won all ready?" he asked his brother, surprised.

"Yeah," Daniel said with a sigh, a tired, drawn out sigh. "It's all over now," the fourteen year-old said. He stared up into the sky; he noticed he had forgotten to catch a glimpse of the sky before night was ending.

"How'd you…" Kenneth began, unable to form completely sentences from the hype not too long ago. "How'd you figure out what to do?"

"Simple," Daniel stirred in his place at the feet of a tree. "After snapping out of my fear, I realized that every time he came back from the ground, he was noticeably stronger, and all his wounds were healed, just like that time I tapped him and turned a portion of his body into stone; when he dug into the ground and came back, that portion was back to normal again." Kenneth nodded in acknowledgment. He prepared himself and pulled himself together for a long explanation, listening to each word carefully so he wouldn't get lost. "First of all, before we began the fight, I was scouting for enemies, right?"

Kenneth nodded, unsure what that fact had to do with anything. "The thing was, I never took them down." Something snapped in Kenneth's mind in realization. A look of continued pique ran over his face. "That way, without him knowing, I was able to predict where he would come from next; I knew even if he came from the behind. Also, while I waited, I wasn't wasting my time, either. I was rearranging most of the strings to the tip of the shortest tree, and connecting the wires to the exact, utmost top of every tree in the thirty miles or so. Using that, every time the enemy was underground and ran under a tree without noticing, the tree would emerge and fall back down ever so slightly that I could pick up the slight motion, getting a piece of his trail underground." Kenneth was all ready confused.

"Now," Daniel continued. Kenneth couldn't believe what he had gotten himself into. "If I were to create a mental graph, or map of the area around us and plot a point on each tree I had detected his trail with, I could form many lines that surround the one spot he gets all his nutrients of power from, one under a specific tree. Most likely, an ideal place for a storage of many minerals, more than any other tree would be the one with the most growth currently. But if I used the map I graphed, there were two points where that tree could be. It was that one, the one with the most leaves," Daniel pointed to a tree towards the west. "Or that one, the one with the most height," he pointed to the east to the tree he was referring to. "After that, the only knowable option left once knowing the two with the most amounts of nutrients to drain from is distance. Whichever one is closer to the user at the time is more convenient, and therefore more ideal to use than the other. Using that information, I made sure I got that guy to go for the closest tree to me, since it'd be more convenient for me to get there. Then, once I made sure he got there to get more nutrients, I sped up the growth rate of the tree so that it would take most of the nutrients under it so that he was forced to go to the next resource – the other tree. That was, why I told you to go to that tree and freeze the ground underneath it from its roots so that we could trap the enemy and put him in a permafrost-style prison without the time required to actually create naturally made permafrost."

Daniel looked to Kenneth, and found him sleeping against the trunk of a tree. He sighed, smiling. "You never were one for smarts, Kenneth," he told his sixteen year old brother. It amused him, really.


	128. Chapter 128

The echoes of punch after punch never seemed to end, like they unwound themselves into reversals of time only for the sole purpose of becoming tedious, inducing impatience. The night whirled faster, faster and faster into the loathsome resistance to go away, disallowing the sun to rise, for there could be one and only one dominator in the sky, one power over half of the world half of the time. Eric continued to pounce at the dome that encased his friends so dearly, so invisibly and rending them helpless with no chance of getting out; despite the magnified strength of his throws, the wall didn't give. Walter and Teresa seemed frozen, not quite themselves as if their souls had been sucked out, eaten by the extraterrestrial forces of the unknown to humans, to space. They stared dully, blankly at Eric's efforts, awestricken by his determination, breathless, speechless.

Trees were high and surrounding, stark with their lonely, thin bodies that were sickeningly slender, as if trees, too, could have anorexia. The clouds pierced the sky, waiting for dawn, just waiting with their certain grasp of hands, looking out into the sky, reaching into the horizon. Their slippery hands could clasp nothing; they craned nothing. Large silhouettes crawled past; one silhouette. Two. They went past the large trees, dodging from branch to branch, making sure they were to make no sound, no murmur of object whatsoever that would give even the slightest clue of the non-absence, their existence.

Teresa continued to watch, feeling the intrusive vibrations of the punches reel into; shake her mind into hypnotizing quakes, becoming caught in a swirling trance of pounce after pounce, punch after punch, breath after useless breath of impure air. She watched the boy with the flaming fists of glory catch the air so swiftly, and strike the panes of the dome strongly, confidently. The look on his face – the movement of his body, it seemed so familiar, so much above her. He seemed tired, worn from his effort, his countless efforts to protect his friends, protect _her_. But it was more than just a simple lack of rest for Eric. If he didn't complete this task he had assigned himself, he'd be through much more. In fact, he was through much more. It wasn't just tiredness that he felt of the body, it was the slowly deprivation of energy and confidence in ensured succession.

_"It's not the relationships with other people that wear you down, Teresa," Eric had told her. "It's your emotions, your decisions that concern the status of the relationship. If you two people knew they were going to get hurt from the other, they'd sure not dare to hurt the other first. So then, if what you say is true, who's the one that gets hurt in the end?" he had implied so early in the beginning._

_"Don't try to get up! You're too tired from your fight with Hibiyomi. You should stay down!" Teresa had scolded. "Eric, don't! Don't!" she had told him as he strained to lift himself from the floor, strained with difficulty. "Eric!"_

_"That's not an excuse for me to let go of someone that I care about; it's not an excuse to let someone I care for die!" she remembered he had implied. Her eyes widened that moment in shock. "You of all people should know that!" he scorned back. And she remained quiet. She lifted herself from her useless state, and she herself began to rip apart the force field that tore the team apart._

_"You get back down," Teresa said after Eric had miraculously stood up despite his weakened conditions._

_"I thought I told you…" he answered, heavily breathing._

_"I'll do it!" she snapped confidently. Eric widened his eyes in realization._

_"Why do you care!?" Walter had yelled later on. "Why do you even care about me!? I don't care about you, or any of the Minors! So why do you still care about me!? Why do I still matter to you!?"_

_"Because you're a relationship I'll protect; because you're someone I care about!" Eric answered in a spat._

_"Don't you get it now?" Eric had asked when he had made his sudden entrance into the battle. "Protecting and caring about the ones I care about is my only want, is my only _need…_"_

Eric… she now thought, remembering all those times he had proven himself to be who he had truly said he was. He was all genuine, she realized. He was never more or less than anything he said he was; he was never a faker, a liar. He was exactly who he implied. He's exactly the person people like me need in their lives…She watched him carry on with the fighting, the efforts, the efforts to satisfy his wants, his needs, the love he had for the Minors, his friendships. It could almost make Teresa cry. It almost did. Eric continued to punch rigorously, mindlessly for his purpose, his life, for if their lives were lost, so was his. It might as well be, according to him. The punches exhausted hot breaths of flames hissing against the dome and his fists. As he did, he remembered the fire, watched it, as the wisps flew away into nothingness air…

_The candles whisked at the air flying their slight sparks of flame into it, as they faded away, into nothingness air. Their dwindling bodies were fingers of straight posture, perfectly carved to the perfected radius of intention, waxy with their hazy body. They flickered with their heedful of bright aura, surrounded by holiness; they should never be forgotten, for they were the brightest things of the hall, of Fate Hall, the only hall that seemed to be lit up by candles, the only hall that was clothed with ornament of sight. The dark halls were no longer darkened by the impurities of the world, lingering about every single moment of consciousness, dangling on every single soul's inner conscience, whether they wished it to be there or not; it was no longer their decision._

_Light weathered the dark away as the hall seemed completely empty, the suffocating halls that were so tight, they were dying themselves from self-throttling of wear. Two souls lingered about, pacing, walking with now noticed steps that were once so quiet, so solemn. Maybe it was just both of them being meticulous, so cautious of the fact that they were toe be heard. However, they had nothing to be fearful of. Everything in the area was an ally; everything in the dimension was. Well, except one thing. But the Minors need not worry about that right now. They needed to focus on White Cloak. The footsteps became louder and louder; they paced themselves throughout the halls, as if searching, sleuthing for something more. Their feet were lit up by the starred light of the candles, slowly dwindling away into waxy nonexistence, and waxy uselessness as the two pairs of feet – one heavier than the other, made their way through the dimensional maze._

_The labyrinth was never ending, it seemed. Time seemed to go on overtime for them, waiting for them, rewinding for them so that they could walk, and walk, and walk forever until their lives had expired, their contracts had burnt to a crisp from the friction of the meeting hands of the time that promised a quick rewind, a soft remix. "Don't keep me waiting," a young voice said suspensively. "We've been walking far enough. Where are we going?" he asked. The voice was strong, confident, masculine, echoing upon the walls of the darkness. Their bodies were lit up, alive by the twinkling flames, the blinking of awestricken feelings occurring non-stopping._

_"Don't worry," a second voice replied, just as strongly and confidently as the first, but a many years older. "We aren't going anywhere; we're just going for a walk. I hope you don't mind; I chose this specific hall so that we are allowed to see better for once." The first voice didn't answer, he did not give a noise or gruff of sound for gratitude. "You kids are too much in a hurry these days," the second voice sighed. "Listen, I have something to request of you," the voice said._

_As light spilled over their faces, they become recognizable presences. "What do you need?" Eric asked lowly. A look of peculiar pique was put over his face like a mask, an intense mask._

_The Council made a quick turn. He stopped walking. He kept silent to himself and gave Eric a cold, hard stare; the light of the candles at the sides poured on to his face with orange paint of light. Hanabikai's glare was unforgiving, only if you had done something wrong, though. "It's more like a promise," Hanabikai answered. Eric waited. "I need you to promise me… that no matter what happens, you'll put your life on the line for any of the Minors, no matter what the danger's level may be. Just keep an open mind about things to possibilities. Especially one particular Minor I'd like for you to watch out after."_

_"Who's that?" Eric asked gruffly._

_"Walter." Eric gave a strange stare. "It's not that any of the other Minors aren't important as the other ones, the thing is just that… well hopefully, if you do your job right, you won't have to know." Eric still seemed suspicious. "Listen, it's not just Walter, Eric. It's all the Minors; if you let any of them die before you, you should be ashamed of yourself, got that?" Eric said nothing; did nothing. "It's just I want you to keep an extra eye or two on Walter," he requested._

_"Hanabikai…" Eric said seriously. Hanabikai was all ears rather quickly. "Since when have I not been watching after all the Minors? The only necessary thing you should have told me is to keep an eye out for Walter; even then, you need not tell me directly." Eric smiled. Hanabikai smiled back._

_"You sure?" Hanabikai asked, staring the boy right in the eye._

_"Yes, sir," he said with respect._

Yes, sir… Eric repeated in his mind, now bringing him back to the consciousness of the present world, pounding against the dome attacking it, striking it. Yes, Eric repeated in his mind. Yes… sir… He continued to drone on in his mind, fixating a pattern of never-ending speaking, never ending recording. His punches began to grow weaker; the energy in his body began to sink into him, as if draining into the ground, or draining into an inner him of which he could not access. Then, his next punch grew weaker, colder. The one after that was weaker than that. Then it was weaker than that one. Then that one. And the next one; all weaker than the one before it. Teresa watched, wondering what could possibly be going on, sensing a downfall in energy in him. She began to worry.

His body's readied stance grew tired; his weak no longer dodged from left to right. His eyes, once blasting with piercing confidence now closed, slouched, and stammered along with his silly feet. The fists – the arms no longer had the energy to move. The fists of glorious fire were now put out by the cold air of darkness, of lost feeling, of swayed consciousness. Eric stammered on his feet once more. Teresa seemed to have lost her voice; she could not call out to him. Walter seemed confused; one second he was fine and then the next he began falling inside of himself. He began to topple over; a foot was now lifted from the ground, and gravity began to take its toll.

"Eric!" Teresa cried out from quick, self-caused exasperation. Her voice echoed from the walls of the dome, making their walls appear visible ever so slightly for a matter of bare seconds. And as her last cry echoed into his ears, he fell to the floor, a loud thud signifying the failure of her shout. His fists lay at his side, eyes closed, the fingers still spewing out streaks of slow, hazy steam, still cooling, still hot. He gave no movement, no signs of life, and the fact of her inability to touch him or feel him, feel for his life, made Teresa even angrier, capturing her into more of her despair, as if she hadn't had enough to last her a whole century's worth of time, of life.

Thunder clouds began to roll above; they've been rolling above all along, secretly, silently, carefully dominating the sky and dominating the arrival of morning, sending it to plunge into nonexistence; the sunrise would not be met. He no longer breathed of exasperation, of tired muscles. He no longer moved. Had he really… died? Was that possible? She watched his body lay on the floor as the skies darkened away the already ceasing stars into deathly darkness. She hoped, _wished_ for movement, for any slight movement of body, of life. There was none. The darkened scenery began to pain over the setting. The cold mist that would have been of morning turned one of storm, one of unease, discomfort, and somehow seemed to seep through the walls of the dome, as if it were the only thing that could, something bad, something negative. It wrapped around Teresa, constricted her of all feelings, of all good thoughts, and kept her trapped, tortured for she no longer could do anything to help her friend, her relation she considered to be the best. It was like being unable to lift a finger when you itched all over, yet you could use the rest of your body, and yet, there was no object near you to use as a scratch post. It was agitating, tedious, not to mention a bit_ annoying_, being in a type of trap like that.

Silence fell over the land. The skies rumbled, darkly, buzzing, engorging themselves into thunderous, gluttonous beings distorted in features and happiness, twisted in life. Their shouts were left unstable, quiet, hushed away into paradise. Whispers of wind sifted the grass, gossips that had lost their meaning, for they had not had a simple predicate and subject of sense since the beginning. They had just been perceived how they had wanted to. And the trees carried that whisper, that lonely whisper of gossip being untrue. The black clouds now began to cry; it was as if a ceremony had begun.

It had begun with a single teardrop of cloud, a tiny speck of rain. Their greedy fingers had grown; their ripples had dominated below the harvested storm, the blackish clouds that scolded so dearly, so meagerly with the sparse of warmth, the scarceness of a luminary presence. The bodies of a malice sky rolled above, gently, despairingly as if they were crying, moaning in their distortion of faces from sorrow; their cheeks had engorged to grievous lusts, mouths losing their melodic hums, the lyrics to their once smiling songs. They played the instrument of none other than the drums of thunder, the clashing symbols of lightning. And then there were two, two drops against the darkened canvas, the second one only proposing itself to share with its first. It was a second tear among the crowd of mourn, high above the sky. And one would think that something so great, so wide and dominative in the clouds would be of lush paradise, a gentle touch of heaven. Yet, they cried, too, for paradise, for them, and for the lost hopes of utopia. The third had come down; the fourth soon followed. Their intervals grew shorter, shrinking into a declination of heart. The lost life was stirring once more with heart; the storm was coming alive. Soon, the fifth, the sixth, and then just a whole army of them at once cast upon the shadow-driven land. Darkness had weathered the grass, the trees, and the once passionate flowers that now swayed mindlessly, uselessly of no purpose.

There was now a continuous beating of heart upon the sifted grass, the soft touch of hearts filtering through them with a wind of an emerging sorrow, one that would grow into a moan, a sob as the stormy ceremony continued. The grayed drops of tainted purity came down heavily, forcefully in screams and randomized cries that echoed through the trees, echoed throughout the grassland beside the city's busy walks and mighty buildings. No building would remain mighty today; no street would be as loud, as busy. The air remained thick with solemnity, like the cheeks of a human crying, crying below with the rain. Nothing of noise was there, as if everyone had calmed, as if everyone had just stopped their selfish arguments of love, halted their foolish opinions of life, politics, and materialistic things, and just listened, listened to the rain. The cold mist began to settle in; sight became one of sparseness.

A cheeky wind hustled past, not too patiently, not too abruptly. The ballistic drill of the lightning had started early, too early. Everything seemed perfect… perfectly wrong. Rain shuffled downward, draining Eric, the body of all health, of all warmth; the smoking, hissing of the lost fire was now dead, now lost, now forgotten, forever.

A tree, a lone tree at that, let go, depressingly of a single leaf, a tiny leaf. It swayed in the dance of air, slowly being cradled by the hands of delicacy, the invisible hands of fate that carried it away slowly, taking its time. The leaf swirled, showed itself for it was no longer in any rush, it had no rush to live, no time limit to complete task. It had no more support, and so it fell, softly to the ground, just like Eric said people would under the same conditions. While Eric remained at the slightest level of consciousness, he remembered, something from the past, not too clearly, not too darkly either, though. It seemed just right, just right for the level of feeling, level of mind he was placed at currently. It just seemed too… perfect.

_"Don't be the first one to wither away, either, Eric," she had said so hopefully, so gracefully, taking a single blue-white petal and placing it into his hand. He had accepted half-mindedly, and she had closed his fist around it for him softly, gently._

The leaf continued to sway, that single, primary, darkened leaf fell to the ground by another tree, a different tree that was just all the same but seemed all the difference. It caught itself in a new world, just a yard or two away from the original tree, falling at the feet of the new one, falling into a recent puddle in the darkened showers. It was the parade of downpour that continued on; the leaf had fallen into the puddle easily, delicately as it conceived ripples that met at the ends. The leaf began spinning slightly at wind, being rocked and floated, being nurtured for the best it could in its current condition. Then, it began to shrivel, it began to die, an early death. It was over. Nothing was left. Nothing.


	129. Chapter 129

The pouring rain continued. Roars of thunder and spears of lightning flashed for second's notices, drumming the sky into an eternal blaze of storm. Eric's silhouette lay imprisoned by the rain, the drops plummeting him wildly, crazily as if they had chosen him as a specific target, an enemy that had all ready been taken down. Engorgement of clouds were never ending, never solving as they shouted white and golden flashes of paradise, and cried infinite tears of lost love, angelic cinders. The trees swayed helplessly, heaping their burdens to the floor, for their charred, blistered hands could not carry anymore, could not support anymore.

"Eric!" Teresa shouted one last, drowned cry. The raindrops fell distortedly around her and Walter, sliding off the transparent surface of the dome, as if the two were repellant to the rain itself. The boy on the ground stirred just a bit; it was enough to light up Teresa's eyes once more. The darkened canvas of sky and lightless cloud continued vomit sickening splashes of water, filling the air with moist and fade, dyeing the scenery grim and weary. There were no pointless efforts to elude the rain, no foolish tries of escaping it. Everyone was trapped in it, as well as everything. Air was beginning to run short; it had been for a while. Teresa could feel the air seep away from her lungs, as if slowly being dragged out by invisible, miniature hands pulling her life out from a rope that lead inside her, into her world of troubles and aching that had slowly been healing, thankfully, past time.

"Don't waste time!" an obscure voice shouted from a certain distance away. Heads turned. A silhouette pushed his way through the trees and grass and rain, quickly with blurring speed, and bringing himself before the three teammates helpless in condition. It was Rick who, so unexpectedly, come from nowhere, for he had been watching from the trees waiting for the perfect time to make sure White Cloak was no longer around the area. He strung Eric's arm around his shoulders and brought the weakened body up. The grayed air darkened his once vermillion eyes and dark-gold hair.

Rick? Teresa thought to herself in shock, careful not to waste the small, few breaths she had left in her. "We have to get him out of here," Rick turned to the two Minors. They said nothing; they waited. Rick examined the area around them while clearing his throat. He knew of the danger they were in; he tried to figure a way to get them out. A time limit fell over him, adding a bit of stress, but he would learn to cope. He continued to think hard, face narrowed in a structure as if it would help the process.

From far away, Marissa watched, cautious. She wanted to help, she wanted to rush to Rick and help him find a way to get the two Minors out. But she couldn't. And she didn't know why. Her legs refused to move; something inside her told her that if she dared to move a finger, she'd get in the way. She was of no use. And she dared to live a finger anyway; she already felt the pain shuffle her of inside. She felt at unease. All she could do was remain safe and act as a burden under the green umbrella of trees, and touch the bark of one ever so delicately, so angelically. Her soft touch seemed so easy over the cragged wood. She was surrounded by the protection of plant, the unmoving, uncaring crowd of tall, stark and once lush trees. She always seemed to be. "Rick…" she softly whispered his name to herself, as if wanting to shout it, to call out to him with it. But she couldn't. It was like doing so would make her become a nuisance as well. However, wasn't the true nuisance the one that didn't try to do anything at all? She didn't know. She just remained still, unacknowledged.

Rick took a cold, frigid breath. The rain had gotten to the air now; it had dominated the land. He protruded a hand forward, felt for the walls of the dome; it seemed to be so surrealistic, fantasized, almost to feel something that wasn't there. He had to make sure of himself that he was indeed not hallucinating. His fingers seemed dangerous; they crackled at the touch of each rain drop, buzzing shortly, instantaneously so that it could not have been seen by the normal rate of eyesight. Then, brushing against the hemisphere ever so slightly, the whole thing crackled in blue-yellow streaks of lightning. It began to react; it began to fall apart. The rain's repel towards the two Minors encased in the dome was no longer effective; Teresa and Walter were now free to breathe. Walter, of course, was indifferent of the fact.

Teresa felt the cool air jump into her lungs as she took a deep, elongated breath. She closed her eyes from the joy, thinking, wondering somewhat of the relief she was receiving. She had wanted to live after all. The rain, the cool, icy rain… it made her feel together again, _alive_, like she had never left the world for just a moment's second. Her relaxed arms fell back to her side as she was permissive towards the intake of rain all over her; she liked to feel it, she _wanted _to feel it. She began to get it all on her; her arms felt it, her legs felt it, her whole, entire body felt it, and her hair felt it, too. Freedom at last; no one would be dying. "What're you doing here?" she asked Rick, not too shabbily.

Rick laughed, his hair beginning to soak in the rain and moist air. "We finished early," was all he said, smiling widely.

It was soon morning. Everyone knew so. However, that did not stop all the Minors from resting just the same as if it were one in the morning. Many had all ready gone to sleep; others were being treated for their wounds, slowly, one by one. So, that morning, Marissa lay in bed. She could still hear the pouring rain, the helpless rein of lost hopes falling over the land, drenching it in burden, in sadness, pouring sadly and sympathetically to the ground, for they had no place else to go. She could still hear it, in her mind, somewhat, as she lay in bed, thinking, staring at the ceiling.

The room was dark, inevitably. Corners had been washed away with the weathering of dark, the presence of misplacement of light. There seemed to be infinite space here, where Marissa saw or sensed no boundaries. So why, then, did she feel so encased, so unable to move, or do anything for that matter? Why did she feel so constricted, so restrained to her only option as to wait, and watch? It didn't make sense to her, and she sighed at the fact, wishing she did. Slowly, she took it piece by piece, knowing it was too dangerous to go about the problem all at once until you no longer understood the details of it, and you could no longer succeed in solving it. That's how it worked.

She had not cared to pull the covers over her; she laid on top of them, feeling their wrinkled coolness against her skin, their soft coverlet fabric warming her ever so slightly, so inefficiently. Her hair had been dried for the most part; her blue eyes were dull against the darkness. They could not pierce it. She lay unmoving, still of motionless energy, the only thing active inside her being thoughts, waves, currents of them rushing onto her shore so randomly, so indiscriminately with the game of chance from the far away shores past her horizon, where the thoughts generated from. They continued to spew at her sand shore, and drag more of her shoreline sand into the ocean of thoughts, bringing the gathered sediment back down, so that it could become something else, something more, more than she'll ever become, she knew. Not even a finger was lifted; not even a toe was moving. She made no effort to breathe; she barely even noticed it.

Today… she thought depressingly, sadly for herself. Nothing happened… she told herself. No, not nothing. Something did happen, she thought. Lots of things happened, actually, she corrected herself. It was me. It was _I_ who didn't happen. I couldn't make a difference, she told herself scoldingly. She looked to the ceiling for answers; she swam in the darkness above for a long time. No answers, no concretion was found in the sea of unorganized murk, misplaced shadows. There was nothing solid, nothing _real_ she could touch, feel, examine. There was nothing to make sure of her that something in her life wasn't the way she thought it was. Was it simply because she couldn't find them; she was just simply not trying hard enough? Or was it because there was nothing to find? There was no firm surface to stand on, no existing, physical object to feel for comfort. She continued to stare, hair strung into a mess, dominating the pillow and bed with its somewhat remaining moisture.

I couldn't make a difference, she told herself once more. Or… was it that I could have made a difference…? She questioned herself once more. Maybe I just felt as if I'd get in the way. Has my use… withered away? She asked the ceiling wall. Nothing; no answer at all, not even the slightest movement of humanity in there, lurking in the sky of emptiness before her eyes. The slightest hints of orange wall plaster showed their reality. She no longer wanted to accept reality for what it was. Am I really going to be… the first petal…? She asked herself. Slowly, she lifted a hand; delicately, she placed it on the nightstand beside her, feeling the cool, calm surface of the wood, the empty smoothness so refreshing to her, so _vacant _to her, unsaturated to the most negative point. Yeah…I am… she was able to answer her own question for once. Sorry, Eric… she thought sadly; she reeled in the tears back into the depths of her unknowing. I'm just a single petal of a flower… that doesn't attract sunlight. Sorry.

And Rick… she thought. When did _you_ get so far past me…? She remembered him for a second; his now teenage shoulders that weren't too broad to be suspicious of, and not too thin and withdrawn to be appalling. She imagined him, his back turned to her, walking away, slowly, as she, too walked at the same pace; they never seemed to get closer. Not anymore. He just seemed to far away now, not the status she had considered him to be in the past. Now, she could not even catch a glimpse of his face; she could not see him. She could not come past him. He was ahead of her. That was fact.

She looked to the walls. They seemed distant as well; too far away from reach. Then, she imaged the small, tiny, fragile little boy she used to know him as, that tiny blonde child sitting in the patch of whispering, tickling grass, arms hugging each other in loneliness. Then, he picked up his head, and turned to look at her. That lonesome frown turned to a smile. Marissa returned to her reality norm. She did not want to accept it. She did not want to call this reality… reality. And so, she fell asleep; her eyes fluttered downward, darkness dominated her vision. Now, she became rested with slumber, silent with siesta, hoping that when she was to return, when those pure, sad and innocent azure eyes were to revisit, they would no longer meet the distant walls of the room, the thick reality of ceiling and dream.

PoVS

The room seemed formal; stiff with intention. The air was scolding, mean, strict, sharp. The entire space was lit up brightly with the rectangular ceiling lights that seemed to cling on to the wall, and pour out their threats of luminous sight, only to provide with benefits in the unpredictable end. There was barely any noise; just work. No fun, nor was there fun wanted, or intended. This was serious, and while the room was so small and so miniscule compared to a proper size, the four would just have to deal with it. They would have to cope; it was the simplest thing to do out of all the things they _had_ to do.

Kahibi Eric watched as a pair of dark eyes wandered about his body, sleuthing him, searching him eerily. He waited, not so tensely, but indifferently. He was not self-conscious, nor did he seem he was. The eyes scanned him vigilantly, secretly as if just by doing so, the person would gather all the information of the world, including the truth of life. However, the eyes remained uninterested. A shifting of glasses brought reflective light. Eric waited for a word; just a single word would be fine. Then, he became intolerant, for he had been waiting there, shirtless and ready for observation. Though such a thing was of no significance to him. "How bad is it?" he asked, taking matters into his own hands.

Shintenmaru sighed, and got up. He stared over the Minor before him, sitting at the edge of the bed, staring back at him from below and into his eyes, trying to search and gouge out the answer himself, without the necessity of speech, of hearing and listening. Shintenmaru cleared his throat, squinting his eyes for a moment's notice. What was with him? He seemed tired. Strange. "Well," he began painstakingly. "You really shouldn't have been up in the first place, but…" he let his voice trail off. Eric waited for the bat; he narrowed his eyes a bit, bending his mouth a bit as well to bore his expression, to show the intolerance for pauses. "You'll be fine," Shintenmaru answered finally. "Your links are still a little damaged, but they should heal over time; you should be fully recovered once you get a good day's rest." Eric nodded thankfully. "Don't get up until I visit you later in the day, supposedly around late afternoon, okay?"

Eric nodded once more. "Thanks," he showed his gratitude, smiling with comforted eyes. The boy picked himself up and brought himself to bed, bringing the covers over him and sighing with exasperation. The coverlet was cool and comforting over his unclothed waist-up. Only one thing remained clothed up there. His bandanna. He never seemed to take it off; it was like a treasure to him of some sort.

"Daniel," Shintenmaru called to the fellow redhead as Eric put himself to bed. "How's he doing?" he asked, listening to the steady hum of recovery nearby. His eyes jotted to the right side of the room, where Zack sat on a stool and shirt disconnected with Daniel crouching before him and running his fingers over the wound right below his neck. The soft, white glow of curing seemed dull even in this silence of room. The blood had stopped leaking.

"Great," Daniel told both Shintenmaru and Zack. The Minor seemed completely comfortable right now; the stressful night had worn out all his hyperactive being. Daniel turned his focus on Zack. "You were hurt pretty directly, though," he told Zack.

"How'd you get it?" Shintenmaru asked swiftly, as if the way he had gotten hurt was of guilt, illegalness and against accepted standards.

Zack seemed to hold back the answer a bit in his mouth; he wondered why he wanted to know. The boy stared into Shintenmaru's eyes and prepared to answer, that dark stare practically drawing it out of him. "Well, um…" he tried to make up an answer. Nothing came to mind. He was just too sleepy for it, and the warm feeling of his wound healing brought him even more drowse than he had already held as a burden to thoughts.

"Protecting someone else, huh?" Daniel guessed, smiling. Zack turned to the Minor quickly, blinking. He was right! How did he know? He couldn't be that smart, Zack figured. Daniel brought a noticeable smirk to his face. "That's understandable. Eric gets those wounds all the time," he told Zack. The boy smiled back.

"Well, then, if that's that," Shintenmaru sighed from tiredness. "I guess I'll be going," he exhaled from exhaust and turned towards the door.

Daniel seemed surprise at the sudden leave. "Yeah; okay," he agreed with him. Shintenmaru nodded his respects for them, something he wouldn't have done before the whole thing with White Cloak just recently, and started towards the door.

"Wait," Zack called to Shintenmaru. The Council obeyed.

The man turned to face Zack with a curious stare. The boy stared deep into him. "Is White Cloak still…here?" he asked tensely. Shintenmaru gulped at the question.

He began to answer when just then – "Yeah, is he? We still don't know…" Eric's voice suddenly appeared from his place on the bed. It was muffled, choked a bit by the covers. "We fought him; at some point or another he just disappeared on his own. What if he's still -?"

This time, he was cut off. "No," Shintenmaru bluntly interrupted. Eric's eyes widened in shock secretly. "Impossible. He left," he assured without turning back. "He has no reason to stay in our dimension anymore. After what Eric said had happened, I'm sure of it." Zack, Eric, and even Daniel seemed stumped. "You may not understand, but don't worry about it. I know. He's definitely no longer here. Especially when his goal is Utopia, and not us. He doesn't have the right power at the moment to come after us. It'd be foolish of him to make a decision that unsorted after five hundred years of abscond."

The three still seemed confused. Shintenmaru waited for their answer; they could tell from the tension being released from his muscles. "Okay," Zack murmured. Shintenmaru said nothing more, and began clicking towards the door once again. Daniel sighed; Eric remained quiet. Things seemed mixed, tense, and unsure. Shintenmaru stepped out and into the dark hallway seconds later. He took a deep, thick breath of air and exhaled it out rather quickly, trying to calm himself as he stood against the now closed door that had ended with a click. He now kept his hands tightly gripped on the golden doorknob that was murky with shadow, rusty with darkness. He didn't want to let go of it. He didn't want to release himself from the cold, cool gold that made him relax ever so slightly, even if only a little. He sighed once more, and brought a hand to his eyes to fix his glasses. They glimmered in the absent light. Then, he took his leave, and gulped as he started towards the end of the hallway, his hands finally leaving the doorknob and its warm print of evidence to cool back to a relaxation station waiting to be used once again.

PoVS

Walter waited in bed, sore. He sat up, fair temperature air all around him, barely comforting. He disregarded things that came his way. He turned his head to that solitary desk at the end of the room; it held nothing but a notebook full of thoughts, of memories. He sighed, wanting to write more, but restrained himself from doing so. He didn't want to write… but he wanted to write. It didn't make sense to him. And this kind of feeling, this kind of state of mind was unnatural for his personality, and so, as a result, he became even more insane over it. His arm was sore; he seeped a sharp, sudden air because of it.

He rolled up his short sleeves and looked at it, all bandaged up by Daniel, when he had not even asked or requested it to be fixed. He had even healed the wound; all Daniel said was to just leave it alone; it was a minor cut. So why didn't it feel like a minor cut? Walter remembered how he got it; White Cloak had sliced him once with it while they had been fighting. Then, the memory of the experience brought back memories of White Cloak, and memories of White Cloak brought back images. Dying images. Hellish images. He strained on the bed, seeping in cool air and bringing his hands to his head, an enormous pain of mentality coming his way as the noir images flashed about in his mind like a slideshow that showed each picture intensely. It was like just seeing that picture was poisonous.

_"Go… drench yourself… wash away… pain…" _

Walter remembered faded words of White Cloak.

_"Join… me… power… no gain from here…"_

And Walter had rejected him. And he was a thousand times positive that he had made the right decision. _"No!"_ Walter remembered crying out in bravery. There was no chance in heaven or hell, life or death that Walter would ever, _ever_ go to that bastard for help.

_"Utopia… goals… revenge… you!"_

Walter cried out once again. That was it. He couldn't take it anymore. He got up from the bed with a jump and took the notebook from the desk with a swipe of his hand. Shuddering, he looked at it, watching it, watching the pages quiver at his trembling hands, his unstable hold. His teeth tightly ground each other, and his eyes seemed unsteady in their sockets. He hesitated. It was a first. He gulped from fear, from nervousness. It was a first as well. Now, having done three new things to his life, he became fed up. He had no choice. He loosened his grip, and threw the notebook into the trash can. The ruffle of plastic against the heavy, thick weight of the book landed with a horrid thud.

And Walter was left, unable to move, unable to breathe steadily, to catch his own breath. His mouth remained open, for he could not gain enough to breathe; his legs refused to move. His mind… it pulsed throughout him. He thought he would gain a sense of completion by throwing that book away. He thought he would feel good. He didn't. And he cursed at life for that. He spat at that. Throwing out that piece of crap only brought me a tiny bit satisfaction, Walter thought to himself. Why!? Why?

Why?


	130. Chapter 130

Outside, not a single soul lurked, not a small, miniscule of human existence wandered about, stepped on the sun-brisk grass. Trees watered the land with shade, the swirling patience of the ceasing night now gone, now dispersed into nothing more but a tiny speck of a memory, a memory that left with a good riddance. The moon was now replaced by the sunlit halo of sky; the clouds now swirled hesitantly around the sun in circles, not sure what would happen if they were to approach it, not sure whether they would be drenched in glory, or be fried to a crisp. The sky was bright; it was no longer yearning for the arrival of dawn, for it had already tasted it, it had already satisfied its thirsty crave for it, its thriving lust for it.

Birds began to chirrup their melodic twitters of song, their chorus of dawn. They were free amongst their homes, nothing abnormal, unnatural to bother them. The world seemed a picture-perfect fantasy of paint and brush, stroke and value in every sweat put into the art. There were no disturbances, no emotions, and yet they triggered emotions. The solutions of the world held themselves dearly, digging barely into their own existence, strung over the elongated limbs of trees, the crooked fingers of random pointer branches. A light darkness existed, a small humor of shadow.

The paradise of heaven poured from the etching holes in the sky, falling in invisible, untouchable, unnoticeable downward geysers reversed in flow, pouring like enormous rain, a gigantic storm. Birds continued to twit; leaves rustled ever so slightly in the morning wind. The moon still hovered above somewhere amongst the high horizon, still seeable in strips, still blatant with color. Today was the beginning of a new day, a new era in the life of a Minor, for the third had come to a close. These eras seemed so short, so uncelebrated, as if they were never important, never worth of praise and acknowledgment. Few even recognized it to be the end of an arc. Others seemed clouded in their own indifference. But one thing remained a constant; all would be sucked into the fourth soon.

"All right!" a sixteen year-old's hand flew up in the air with a pair of red chopsticks, clicking the two twigs together. They found themselves chirping inside instead of out, surrounded by the darkness that was pushed far in the room. The hands flew down and began to dig into the savory, hot steam. Kokori Dylan sucked the noodles from the enlarged bowl of food swiftly, as if he were a vacuum cleaner put out of work. He terrorized the bowl with chopsticks and sucking noises, the constant clicking of the tools drumming on the fine noodle bowl. He held the bottom of the large, shaking food as if it were to fall if he didn't.

He sat by a Minor, eating, not minding her at all as he instantly inhaled half of the bowl in a matter of ten seconds. A band-aid patch remained at the side of his face, sticking to him like a healing parasite. The warm rushed of soup to his stomach made him tingle ever so slightly, ever so microscopically that he enjoyed it to the fullest extent. It was a rather strange feeling, really. Then, digging the chopsticks right back into the bowl, he began to breathe the rest of the bowl in. Seconds later, he returned from the mask of an enormous bowl; the food now gone, the soup all slurped. He had done it so noisily, so mind-piercingly that it had barely even made a sound to Teresa, who sat indifferently beside him, not sure whether or not she should feel uncomfortable, or just completely shocked and not the least bit self-conscious of herself. She found herself in the compliant middle.

Wow… Teresa watched, wide-eyed, her violet eyes peering to the side of her; she gulped, rather uncomfortably. I've never seen someone so… thin… eat so… much, she told herself in awestruck. Her brow twitched uneasily. The bowl went down to the table with a clink; Dylan gave a long exhale of exasperation, exhilaration. "I could go for more!" he smiled a bit too widely, a bit too comfortably, half-mindedly.

Teresa laughed herself, nervously. "Figures," she replied.

Dylan cleared his throat; he folded the chopsticks and brought them back to the mouth of the bowl, too long for it too eat. "So, uh," Dylan said uncomfortably without looking at Teresa. The Minor sensed his tension, his coyness at the moment. "How did the whole White Cloak thing go?" he asked indirectly. His eyes crinkled sadly in a way, darkly so that they seemed sympathetic, sad, depressed. On the upside, though, he seemed to have received a slight tan. Teresa wondered where he had been.

"Oh," Teresa figured. She didn't know how to put it. What could she say? A crazy man in a white costume almost killed her, Walter, and Eric, and the only reason she was sitting here alive with him today was because of Rick's early victory and their lucky chance of being the route closest to Rick's? She didn't think that would make very good breakfast talk. Then again, watching Dylan eat wasn't so much of a morning comfort, either. "Um…" she stalled. Her eyes peered to the side. She looked for a single corner of the room. Impossible. It had been eaten by the darkness. "It went all right," was all she could think of. "It wasn't too… bad," she strained.

Dylan flashed a suspicious look, raising one brow as he stared her hard in the eye. She laughed the gaze off, hoping to pry it off with that. She smiled forcefully; it wasn't something she was used to. "It's nothing, don't worry about it," she laughed. He hoped he wasn't too suspicious. Even if he was, she hoped he would find the decency or slight panic to comply with her and stop asking questions; it was obvious she found them rather uncomfortable at the time. She didn't know why herself. "So, how'd your thing go?" she asked back, with more ease in her voice.

"Huh?" Dylan pretended as if he didn't know what she was talking about. He blinked, once, twice; three times. His innocent emerald stare seemed to boyish, too child-like to turn down. It was like he hadn't commited a sin at all in his whole entire life; his eyes said it all because they looked like they belonged on a five year old's face, and not a simple sixteen year old, who was more than double the age. His white hair made him even look more unnatural, but by doing so, somewhat more adorable, like a plush doll held in a tiny little girl's arms that was coveted, loved by constant, mindless tight hugs.

"Well," Teresa began to ask, looking rather confused herself. She was afraid she had chosen another strange topic to speak of. Was there any decision she _would_ make right? "The Council kept you for something here, right? Excluding you from the search?" Dylan remained silent. "It was with another Minor. I think it was Lance. Don't you remember?" she piqued. "It wasn't that too long ago," she said comfortably, not too emotionally. It was never her style to show too much expression. She barely moved her body when she talked. Anyone like that would be Marissa. "You look pretty beat up; what happened here while we were gone?" she asked one more time. She knew he had to remember now.

Dylan avoided eye contact now. "Dylan…?" Teresa let her voice trail off. She moved towards the boy to find his eyes. They were slouched towards the ground; his appetite of a face was now full, worn off. She wondered if she had said anything wrong. "Dylan-san…? Is there something… wrong?" she let herself stammer.

"Huh?" Dylan lifted his head and flashed a blink to her. Teresa seemed suspicious now, narrowing her eyes just slightly to let him know she was aware. "Oh," he realized quickly. His expression quickly changed. "It's nothing. Just training is all," he told a not-so-blatant lie.

"I see," Teresa accepted unsurely. At that, Dylan seemed to get up from the table rather quickly; the chair screeched and rapped at the ground as it was pushed back. She looked up as Dylan brought himself on his feet, and began to leave the room without any further eye contact, any further talking. He hadn't even realized it himself before he was at the threshold of the door.

"I… have to go," he said rather uncomfortably. A sad look washed over his face. Teresa said nothing; she nodded. He left a second later. Then, she looked to the bowl, the bowl which was now empty, surrounded by darkness, untouched by those happy, cheery hands. She sighed, feeling down herself. She had her own problems. No matter how much she'd deny them. There was no escaping it. She had to accept it. It seemed that Dylan had already done the same.

PoVS

The hallways were dark, tinted with nothing but shadow and orange must. A certain disturbance lingered about the corners, seeping into the dimension darkly, secretly. If one was to follow this path of bare vision, and turn many corners to the right, and a few to the left, they would find nothing but darkness; nothing but a dead-end wall with two possible routes to go: a large room and an enormous door split through the middle. Everything seemed so shady, so unnoticed. One could wonder why the Council had chosen to make everything this way – so eerie, so ominous with the absence of light; the only things that helped being dwindling fingers of candles and rectangle bodies of electrical hum slowly failing away into nonexistence at the murky ceilings.

The doors stood quietly, solemnly, as if waiting dearly for someone to come open them up from the outside. They seemed to keep something out with great resistance, like something on the other end was too frightening even for an inanimate object to be put through. However, they made no signs of physical protest. They did not shudder. They did not shout, or cry, or go on strike. They just stood, for their silence, their patience, their blank, eyeless stares; they said them all. The two large stone doors were encrypted with specialty, swirls of ancient past and lines of archaeological history etched onto it decoratively, dominantly as if a free spirit had become so wild – too wild with their imagination so that they painted everything they ever knew, everything they ever experienced, mixed into one collage of paint and picture, swirled and intertwined with fates and destinies, experience and experience after thought and thought. It was the passage of time this picture represented; it never changed, not even in the slightest tick of a hand's lone finger.

Then, the middle of this portrait of life split in half, perfectly with a softly touch of angelic light, ripped into a direct, clean two by hands of god. They opened a crack, moaning creakily as they split open a direct line of extreme, intense yellow and white light, holily into the dark room. The hallway was beginning to lighten up with it. Then, just all at once as if they had no more patience stored into them by the hands of fate, the doors burst wildly open, slamming into their respective walls at their sides that had remained their comrades for years, now being plummeted heavily. The intense white-gold light poured into like vomiting rain; it lit up the entire way for miles.

The stone doors became a passage of permit. Then, from the mouth of this portal came mist. Lots of it, pouring out, spilling from the entrance and out into the floor of the hallway, weakly, uselessly, mindlessly as if icing over the floor and calling the entrance of an important being. The man stepped out; a dark figured wearing heavy clothes. A low, exasperated sigh escaped his lips, his innocent, godly lips. The man sheathed his sword as he came from the glowing-white fantasy world of paradise and mixed reality. The sword glowed gigantically and respectfully with a metal luster as it reeled itself back into its case with a screech. The figure still darkened despite the abundance of light, the doors began to close behind him, coldly; the mist died away into the far corners of the returning darkness.

He took a step forward this man, and looked up to find familiar faces. "What a time-consuming task," he muttered. His voice was carried by the echoes of the walls. He was granted a folding vibration of his own voice just seconds after his last word. He took another step forward, daringly, almost.

"Took you long enough," a figure answered from the opposite room. The man stood at the threshold of it, as if not allowed to enter, not having the ability to even walk through an entrance. "What took you so long?" the voice groaned.

"You know I'm not going to answer to a voice like that," the man answered meanly. A joking smile flashed beneath heavy clothes. A smile answered back. "No, I kid," the voice spoke. A sleeved hand brought itself to the man's head and brought down a large circular hat of bamboo. "But, yes, I did take a long time, didn't I?" he asked, the booming voice asked.

"What were you doing?" a different voice answered back. "We all got here before you. It's unlikely for you to be late for a rendezvous. Did you run into a problem on the way here? Don't tell me Judgment put up more than a second's fight for you," the voice piqued, leaning in.

"No, of course not," the council voice answered back. "I was just…" he let his voice trail off. "Just listening… to the rain."

Voices chuckled back, some mockingly, some amusedly. "You were always one for nature, Tsukansu," Hyoumaru's familiar voice came from a different corner.

"Well," Tsukansu replied in defense. "Society hasn't been too good to me in the past. My only option was to turn to nature. You'd be amazed at the level of good-listening the rain is at. It's like each small rain drop is listening to you; each crack of lightning is its tearful reply to you, and the cold, fresh, healthy air are hands that actually care about you. You understand, don't you?"

It was silence. Nothing but silence filled the room for a brief moment of tension. "Well, you haven't been that nice to society itself in the past," Raikettei answered from a dark, shadowy side. It was mind-blowing how they could sense each other in this humid shadow world of ebony and blindness.

"I suppose you're right," Tsukansu answered to the sudden change of subject, as if it were nothing. "Do you have any idea when we should tell them?" he changed the subject himself. "Sometime soon, I hope?"

"No," a voice answered. "Sometime in the afternoon; they deserve some rest, I suppose."

"They better deserve it," Tsukansu replied somewhat threateningly. "I'll go check up on the past day or so with Hanabikai," he suggested, turning towards the opposite way and turning his back on the five other Councils. He began to head towards the hallway; it was a single step taken before the voices called back to him.

"Yeah," Dirondo agreed.

"You guys find Minoa about Jeremy," Tsukansu suggested before starting again.

"Sure thing," came his answer from Hyoumaru. Tsukansu resumed his walking; his steps clicked on the floor so easily, so glidingly as if the floor was ice. In this darkness, you could never be too sure.

"I'll ask Hanabikai myself about Jeremy," he suggested.

"Okay," came a blatant answer. They didn't seem too hyped about him so suddenly… Tsukansu wondered why. Why don't I have a good feeling… about anything, in general? Tsukansu thought to himself as he listened to the steady beat of his own Geta slippers clicking on the plaster ground, singing their wooden hearts out. The man clutched the sheathes of his swords as he continued walking.


	131. Chapter 131

The lights buzzed weirdly, frantically. The air seemed whimsical, goofy at the moment, swirling in its own drunkenness while intertwining their cells within each other, mutating themselves into a metamorphic burst of extreme fantasy, a blistering of imagination. Hanabikai sat over the troubled body, watching him in his sleep, his rest, speaking to him through his thoughts as if he were there to listen, as if he had the ability to, and as if he were conscious. He had been sitting there for much too long; however, he couldn't think of a single thing to do if he got up. The walls seemed to relax, however, at the same time, remaining stiff, perfectly neutral so that it would not be discriminated; it would not be noticed for a difference in regularity. However, the fact that it was trying to hard to succeed that fact and capture it, made it a difference in expected normalcy.

The bed sheets covered up to the boy's chest, which failed to rise and fall in a long range of acknowledgment. His eyes were closed, calmly; his arms – frozen at his side, unalarmed, unstressed. For once they could rest; for once they did not have to protect every daring second of his and his friends' lives. It was as if they could not defend themselves; they had no arms. So he, happily, offered his arms to them. His lips were eerily still; they did not twitch in the slightest motion – he seemed so calm, so tranquil in his sleep, so at peace. Why didn't he seem like that regularly, when he was awake? Was something troubling him, without him even realizing it? Why don't people in the world ever look as calm or relaxed when they're sleeping, when they're away from the world? What makes them so happy, without even realizing their own presences? What was so great about that?

Kahibi Eric remained in his stationary position on that flat, comfortable bed of blatant color white; it was as if he had been suspended in the round cycle of second and hour, the loophole of which we knew as darkness, light, happiness, sadness, madness, insanity, sanity, holiness, undead, reality, fantasy, life, and death. Hanabikai sighed, thoughts flooding his mind, pulling him to the non-lasting brink of life, brink of sanity that he soon found himself on the edge of. He ticked his tongue slightly, comfortably. He wondered when he would come back. Come on, Eric, he thought. Give us another miracle. He watched his features, waited for a reaction as if he knew the Minor heard him, even with the absence of voice, he heard him. There was no twitching. There was no moving. There was no noticeable breathing. There was no reply.

Then, as if answering for him, there was a knock at the door; a dead, solid knock that seemed too eerie to be human, too deep to be weak. Hanabikai cocked his head up as his eyes widened just a bit; he seemed alarmed. Then, returning back to his norm, he waited, sensing, feeling, _watching_ the door behind him without turning, just touching its presence ever so slightly so that he knew what was happening, and what had happened. His brown hair remained stiff; he waited for the slow creaking of the door. And it came. It came to succeed its promise that Hanabikai knew it would.

The low moan of false despair creased the air, cracked it from suspense and replacing it with a thicker one; a deeper one, a more impermeable one. Darkness lurked in sneakily, obviously. A slice of a figure, a strip of a silhouette showed scarcely. Then, it was a step into the room, a click of wooden slippers against the hard paved floor. The figure waited. Hanabikai did the same; he decided to. One would soon talk. Which one?

"Tsukansu," Hanabikai started without turning to find his closest friend a few feet away from him, standing behind him secretly, as if disloyally. "You're back already?" he asked peculiarly with a short, comfortable smile.

Tsukansu laughed in reply; his voice was hoarse, a bit tired. "You sound as if you don't want me here," he noted.

Hanabikai smiled at the thought. "No, that's not it," he answered. "So, how was your trip?" he intended to change the subject, speaking metaphorically, suspiciously.

"Decent," was Tsukansu's one-word answer, voice gruff and blatant.

"Man of few words as always," the sitting council joked.

Tsukansu gave a short chuckle, just slightly so that it remained comfortable, easy. "How did they do?" he referred to the Minors.

"Fine," his friend answered. "This one over here snuck out for the sake of his friends," he referred to Eric. Their attention turned to him quickly, swiftly. Their eyes almost pierced him; however, he could not be permeated. "He's going to need resting until the afternoon or so," he informed.

"I see," Tsukansu answered bluntly.

"When are they expecting us?" Hanabikai asked, changing the subject once more. There was a brief silence.

"Sometime during the next day," Tsukansu figured hoarsely; he spoke without emotion, without enthusiasm, as if he had been on a strict no-caffeine and sugar break for a month.

"When shall we -" Hanabikai was cut off.

"Later," he snapped lowly.

"You seem rather cold, lately," Hanabikai informed. "Has your own misunderstanding self come back?" he provoked. Tsukansu sighed. He shut his eyes for a while, feeling himself, as if he had lost himself as well; he knew what Hanabikai meant. The question remained, was he doing it on purpose?

"I'm sorry," Tsukansu apologized. "It's not that," he assured. "It's just…" he let himself trail off.

"You're worried, too," Hanabikai finished for him. Tsukansu picked his head up in awareness. "Aren't you?" he insisted. "About those two?" he continued. Tsukansu said nothing; his lips remained sealed, his thoughts remained uninitiated. "It's not just me."

"How can I not?" Tsukansu sighed exasperatedly, this time with more emotion, friendlier.

"It's okay. I'm sure everything will be all right," Hanabikai assured without proof, without belief in his own words. The fantasy air continued to swirl; it now pooled outside in escape. "Let's hope so," he spoke with exception. Tsukansu nodded in agreement. No words made them feel better. None. At all.

PoVS

His footsteps echoed on for miles, deep, thorough miles that never let a trace of it become unnoticed of it; it was too dominative almost, too… selfish, if you could call them that. The darkness ate away at them, sucking them in into greedy eternity of life, egotistic reality of hate, of death, of vamp being and murky blustering. His footsteps continued, mindlessly, daringly towards the end of the hall. He did not know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to go _somewhere_, at least, somewhere farther away, from his own reality. However, the more he walked, it seemed as if the more he got closer to it, and not farther away from it. And without contemplation, he continued anyway, disregarding it out of his own good, while a sliver of his own conscience believed that he should just stop a moment, think, and rationalize.

The darkness paved no sighted way for him, it was full of disease, unhealthiness contaminated into one container that would not let it out, and was kept hidden in the shadows at the sides, while the boy just walked past each shadow, each sliver of disease, death and cease, which, as if it weren't enough, infected with even more virus, more pain, agony, hell. Nevertheless, the boy kept walking, half-mindedly, halfheartedly; he knew not of where he was headed. He just knew he was headed… somewhere. Would he die? No, what kind of a wild hallucination of a question was that? It was completely blown out of proportion. Things were not as bad as they seemed – to him. They were just simply carried away; they were just simply brought away from his imagination and distorted into nightmare fear. He just had to wake up. He did not know of how to.

Kokori Dylan kept his pace down the hall which he barely sensed; he never knew when he reached a corner. He just waited until he felt a wall's bosom before him, or the threshold of a door. Even then, he would not walk through the door; it seemed as if he as too scared, too un-daredevil to do so. Then, out of his extreme insanity and cloudy-mindedness, came a thought, an idea of some sort. It was an obvious idea; he scolded himself of not thinking of it earlier and ending his frantic gestures of nervousness, of timid coy. As he did, he brought life to his fingers, danced them about and trickled them against the air as sparks, flashes of light began to conceive from between them, the friction. They were like tiny, distant stars sewn into the fabric of his turning, twisting, sprinkling fingers. They began to wrap around them, then around his hand, bringing life to this darkened hall, bringing light to the suspenseful road. The light wrapped around his hand, until it became a device useable, a utensil of his will, a piece of equipment handheld for him and him only.

The walls were now visible; the ceiling was now seen. Corners were not, however, but the ends of roads and curves and turns and thresholds were now available to vision. Dylan felt a large lift of burden off of his back, a huge wave of relief coming over him and comforting him, touching into him, tapping into his soul. Shadows burst from him and engulfed by his own light, until nothing remained but his own luminary, hopeful presence. He continued his venturing through the dimension. He had not of an idea as to where he was, where he had come from, or, of course, where he was headed. He was indefinitely lost.

He turned the corner. Where am I headed? He thought. Am I going to die? Am I headed for danger? Or am I headed for a prize; am I going the right… way? Am I an existence? His sanity wore away along with the eroded darkness. The bright light glowered hotly against the side of his cheek; it was a bit comforting at the least. His emerald eyes stared on; they could not pierce anything, despite their childish beauty. Now, these childish beauties were nothing but filled with concern of his own good self. Am I a good existence? Am I real? Or am I just a small… single… feeling; something just felt, just tingled for a moment's notice, and then forgotten by the next day? Am I something real? Do I mean something real; what do I mean _what_? Surely, it was time for him to be commited.

Then, he looked to the walls, as if they would give him the answer. In a way, they did. Along the walls, there were brilliant trails of faded paint, slapped on by a mop of fingers, obviously by someone, something. Dylan gulped, nervously. He looked to the opposite wall; there, too, laid many trails of paint, many waves and wisps of fingered color swirling around there with life, pulsing with reality. Then, he looked to the floor. There was a bright whirling color. Yes, everywhere, there was dried paint. It smelled of it, too; it was recent. Where had this paint come from? Was Dylan truly hallucinating now? Was he now really ready to be commited?

He continued to walk, to venture through the hall of paint. Soon, he found a collage of paintings, painted and portrayed against the walls as if a gallery. The paint smudged everywhere, each one taking millions of strokes and hours of hard work. There were good pictures, signs of holiness, and signs of good feeling. Then, there were horrid ones, gory ones. They represented everything around us – happiness, sadness, formality, disappointment, guilt, innocence, framing, blackmail, darkness, light, the universe, knowledge, money, selfishness, respect, religion, discrimination – everything that had to do with what the world was… what a _life_ was for a human being. Smudges of orange wall hinted through the paintings, blindly painted over.

"Amazing," Dylan whispered to himself in secrecy. The paint was still wet; he made sure he did not step on any paintings to ruin their fine effort. "Who did this…?" he whispered once more. It would've been obvious, despite the fact that he wasn't doing so well in the head at the moment. Or, was he just one of the few that didn't… know… of it? Maybe. He would find out soon, anyways.

"What the hell…?" he turned to a certain picture of a black hole, and swirling faces, many recognizable faces that he didn't know where they were from but included him as well into it, distorting themselves around it. There were many sand particles; there was a sun inside as well. Then, there shot a sharp needle through the air and against the wall behind him. Dylan dodged out of the way quickly, sensing it just barely as it zoomed through the air, glowing from the light he had created himself. He looked to the needle, glimmering. He gulped. Who had sent that needle?

Among the shadows, there was a being of life. Gloves stained with paint showed through. A crooked smile, a friendly one, too. "Hello, Dylan," said the voice. Dylan turned around, wide-eyed. "Welcome to my world," the boy welcomed.

"Who are you?" Dylan muttered as he stepped closer, narrowing his eyes slightly. He couldn't see the boy's face; just the body and his concealing gloves.

"Wha-" he said with shock, friendlily in his teenage voice. "Dylan – are you joking?" he said with certain self-pity. Dylan blinked. He squinted his eyes. Then he recognized the boy – and scolded himself for not recognizing him sooner.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," Dylan said nervously, apologizing. He chuckled off the embarrassment. It kept coming back to shoot him in the face. "Sorry, Lance!" he apologized. The boy seemed angry, fuming slightly. Then he got over it. "Lance, what did you do to this place?" he asked now, less humiliated.

"Refined it; made it my own," he answered friendlily now.

"Why?" Dylan asked out of piqued interest.

"Just felt like it," Lance said passionately. "Why; is that a crime?"

"No, no, not at all!" Dylan sang respectfully. He chuckled in his own returning embarrassment.

"Listen," Lance insisted. "About yesterday…" he began. "What do you think happened?" he sighed. His voice seemed sad, sympathetic for himself as well.

"What do you mean?" Dylan asked. "Things happen in life."

"No, I mean…" Lance spoke with exception. "What do you think _happened_ yesterday? What do you think happened to Jeremy? How do you think he got to be like… like that?" he asked with a stammering, nervous voice.

Dylan seemed to hesitate for his reply. He traced his fingers over the square-bandaged cheek. He sighed deeply. He didn't know what to say. Lance did the same, though he had no injuries – he had dodged each attack by detecting details. Dylan, however, on the other hand, could not. "Honestly… I don't know. Maybe…" It was no use. Dylan couldn't answer the question.

"Maybe White Cloak did it?" Lance suggested.

"What?" Dylan thought the idea was preposterous. "What do you mean White Cloak? What would he want with Jeremy? His target is Utopia; or, in other words, us!" Dylan thought that the idea of the goal was ironic comparing to what the man was doing at the moment – probably thinking of what to do next.

"Come on, it's possible, Dylan!" he scolded. "Think about it. White Cloak- he even injured one of the backups, bypassing some serious security the Council _must've _set up!" Dylan remained silent. "Come on, Dylan! It would've been just as easy for him to get to Jeremy as well; even more evidence provides the time Jeremy started his bursting. It was right after White Cloak had visited! Don't you think that's a bit suspicious?"

"I don't know, Lance, I really don't know," was all Dylan could say, avoiding eye contact. "Maybe he did do it. But can we really know for sure?"

"No…" Lance said calmer this time. Dylan looked to the boy; they both stared into each other's eyes. "But I just…" Lance's voice began to break a bit. "I just want something to believe in…" he said with a sniffing, crackling voice. Dylan said nothing; he retorted nothing. He just looked sympathetic. And Lance brought his glove, paint-splotched hands to his face, while Dylan just fell to the ground. He ticked his tongue in thought. They stayed there. For a long time.


	132. Chapter 132

The sun would not discontinue its constant glowering of insolation, drenching over the life-filled lands and shuffling winds of grass, mesmerizing the lake with a distortion of ripples, a faded, forgotten reflection. The grass ruffled and clapped hands to its rhythmic glows, the soft drums of secret winds hustling by, quickly, swiftly, hurriedly all the while trying to be as sneaky as can be. The incoming afternoon was beginning an early, fresh start, too eager to begin at schedule time, causing an inconformity, misplacement in the fabric of life, time, and all its organization processes. Mere shadows lurked over land, exhausted, bathing in their relaxation of soft beds of grass and hot streams of sunlight fondue.

Joy was betrayed for a much more leisurely feeling, one that complied with a downright sloth inducement, smooth and comforted in people's hearts, begging them oh so well to not do _anything_ and just sit there… and watch. Not a hint of anxiety stirred, not a rush of anticipation, or hurriedness bubbled from below the surfaces. All was calm; all was let go by the controlling hands of fate, and let them be liberated, free to do as they wish, while all they wished for, was to be relaxed. Nothing seemed too much out of place; nature did not see or notice, or sense at the least the early rays of intense sunlight.

Inside, voices counseled. Rooms were dark; corners were, ironically, cornered by darkness; not a speck of light was piqued, not a drop of gold was existent in the shadowy world of ebony rupturing upon ebony, clouding visions of all that was good, and all that was existent. Walls were tinted with orange, darkly, secretly, as if each tiny little atom held inside those stretched plaster walls hid a tiny little piece of gossip, a shard of one dark, and true, rumor that had been forbidden to be spread; otherwise, you'd be spread as well. It was the one thing each tiny sewn string of shadow shared, what each small pebble of plaster held together as an invisible, unmentioned and never-to-be mentioned bond. Halls were filled like conglomerate; stuffed and messily, despite the fact that they were empty, they were controlled, dominated by a thick darkness that put you at unease, stuffing your comforts with discomforts instead and discordant, yet soundless vibrations of fear.

In a certain room, there were more than just _silent_ vibrations. There were real ones, ones that existed and lurked at every corner, trying to dominate and dethrone the shadows from their eternal majestic kingdom that they had no right to earn, nor had they earned at all. It was the sound of adults, the speech amongst peoples and their tasks, their future accomplishments waiting to happen, waiting to exist, as well as their worries that they quite haven't gotten rid of yet, but planned to in the soon future. Hopefully. "It's nearing afternoon," Sound Council Dirondo noted in the darkness. The rest of the Council remained in the large room as well, standing more or less in a circle around a specific object of significance. The Council seemed to like the darkness; it was their only security, despite having their own dimension to thrive from.

"Yeah," Tsukansu agreed quickly. His face was not in sight; his features protruded a bit, a long face, the sides of his triangular side of hair. His dark brown eyes piercing just a tiny bit through the darkness, for they always seemed to be squinted somewhat, to remain intimidating, almost. "Hopefully, when _she_ gets here, she'll be able to help Jeremy," he hoped. His voice bounced off the walls crazily, hurriedly. "For now, we'll have to be on tight security more than ever," he suggested.

"Agreed," soon spoke Hanabikai. His voice, too, bounced off the empty walls, the battles between darkness and vibration. A person's hand reached into a golden disk, fingers seeping into the solid gold as if it were made of liquid, crisping and phasing through it and into it, for it did not come back out on the other side. Ripples slightly formed in unconformity as crackling noises sounded through the air, almost invisibly past the surrounding councils' ears. They waited. The process continued; the hand reached in deeper, and deeper, and deeper… The cracking noises continued through scold the air and discipline it lightly, force-diverging it with a snap.

"Sometimes I wonder…" a new voice came out, delicately, softly and gently, Minoa's. Her voice sounded of one with certain guilt she couldn't seem to hide. "Did we really have to send Jeremy on such a quest…?" There was no answer; she didn't seem to wait for a reply. She just wasn't sure if she should continue talking; it was a hard decision for her, yet she did not know of why it was that way. "A quest to find the Minors, that is," she went on. Still, no reply. Just eyes, circling around, not moving, just watching. She kept herself from clearing her throat for forced comfort. She didn't need pity comfort like that from herself, she decided. "Tsukansu had found the same amount of Minors Jeremy did in a day than Jeremy had done in a week or two."

The last wait for a reply. This time, the wait was answered; impatience was refreshed and restored. "Maybe…" Shintenmaru said, digging his hands into the golden locket that seemed so familiar, so, so, familiar, eerily sticking it in surrealistically as if he were doing it in a dream, and the rest of his body and the rest of the events taking place currently around him were real, all not hallucinated and safe from psychosis. "Maybe we just abused Jeremy's help and strife to help us.

"But we can't sop over that now," Hyoumaru suggested wisely, his voice seemingly blossoming from a stationary state to a sudden decision of speech.

"Agreed," Tsukansu nodded. "We have to focus on what we have to do, rather than what we could've done," he added with his own wisdom. He made a clear and very understandable point. You couldn't help but agree with him.

"Tsukansu's right," Hanabikai admitted from a corner. His eyes glowered a bit in the deep, churning darkness that seemed forever suspended in time. "However, we are powerless over Jeremy's condition at this stage of its growth."

"He's right," Dirondo replied. "We have to focus more on the Minors right now and what they have to do," she added. "… As well as the Guardians," she spoke suspiciously.

"Oh, that's right," Tsukansu muttered a bit excitedly, happily with an obvious smile beneath that thick darkness blanket known as the current room they found themselves all in for two reasons. "Are you the least bit excited, Shihou?" Tsukansu said a bit mockingly, turning to the dark-blue haired Council's silhouette portrayed just barely amongst the canvas of retro shade and mystery. Shihou's eyes darted through the darkness, narrowly. Tension broke through and began to seep through easy cracks of the walls.

Her eyes caught themselves over Tsukansu, staring hardly, unforgivingly as if filling him in disgrace. Tsukansu felt none; he had nothing to be guilty for. "I am of indifference," Shihou forced herself to reply with a normal, not angered voice. It was hard to tell whether or not she was bluffing. There was just a cold, icy look in her eyes, hard and hateful, filled with detestation; either that, or just plain annoyance.

"Ooh, harsh," Tsukansu joked, pushing his luck.

"Tsukansu, that's enough," Hanabikai scolded. "We all know the story; let's not push it," he insisted in a slight commanding voice, a bit scornfully as well. Tsukansu sneered in retort; a scowl washed over his face. Hanabikai sighed from tediousness. He wondered why Tsukansu always bullied others; he supposed that as ages passed by, things of interest became less and less of significance, and lost their pique and inducement. Tsukansu must've lost more pique over the years than the others. His old age was really affecting him; even though he had the body of a twenty year old.

"I think they'll find a little surprise when they meet a few of them," Tsukansu smiled like a bully, a threat almost.

"Meaning?" Hanabikai insisted gradually, demandingly. Tsukansu disregarded.

"Oh, nothing; nothing at all," Tsukansu smiled again, now innocently, different from last time. "I'm just saying. Especially _that_ Guardian and his family's traditions." Others had to agree; they knew which one he was speaking of.

"We've got a rebel there, too," Hyoumaru noted with a careful grin. "And another has problems of his own he has to deal with."

Sighs of stress went all around, imagining the future additions to the team. "I wonder if we can handle them all," Hanabikai muttered under his breath; his voice was only heard by the reflecting of empty, poverty walls.

"Our population, including Jeremy," Shintenmaru began as he continued to reach into the golden locket. "Is about to increase by twenty-four percent," he calculated.

"You have to be so exact?" Hyoumaru groaned a bit.

"He's always been like that," Kakori smiled from a distance away. It was true. Shintenmaru would always calculate anything he could get his hands on from the simplest math problem to the hardest scientific explanation only an expert of the experts could even think to do. Shintenmaru smiled; he was proud of having the serious yet nerdy personality he always seemed to maintain in a balance.

"Even, so, he's right," Raikettei had to admit, and so did everyone else in the room. "However, they don't know yet, the Minors," Raikettei muttered under his breath in a sigh. "We'll have to tell them soon, right?"

"Indeed," Shintenmaru replied before Hanabikai could get a word out. "But for now, we'll focus on our life contracts," he headed for the first task at hand. With that, everyone focused their eyes on his drawing hand, that drew out the first scroll shaded over by the darkness that had been protected for so long, so long. Then, they waited, and drew their hands in again.

PoVS

The ground roared as it was uplifted from the ground, breaking and thrashing into the air with a sudden rise in elevation, expanding their limits under Kumoyama's feet. The ground tumbled and rolled, making loud groans of pain as it thrust upward. Rick jumped into the air before it was too late; the hot sun was now a burden on his shoulders as he went high in midair. The large platform of ground kept uprising and shooting towards him; he had nowhere to go now – he was caught in midair with nothing to hold on to, no surface to walk on. The cloudless sky rained down upon him with the lack of precipitation; the air was fairly dry, not too dry as to induce discomfort.

Thinking quickly in the midair, Rick thrust a palm downward in the air; a tiny blue speck of electricity sparked at the middle of his hand. The spark jumped in a second to the surface of the uprising ground. It made no effect. Rick scowled at the failure. "Oh; so that's how you're going to play!" Rick growled intensely. Rick waved his arms through the air once, dramatically, and a wave of unknown force shot throughout his body in an expanding circle. It passed through many objects; the wave made no effect on them. Then, he prepared himself once again. He thrust his arms twice towards the uplifting surface again. Two sparks flew out; it shot with the same energy as the first, but this time, it broke a huge chunk of the rising platform off and sent the sediment falling to the ground, plunging to their doom of dust.

"What?" Mark yelled out in shock from the surface as he watched Rick oppose his risen ground. He scowled a bit himself. He gave up on the rising surface and brought himself a punch. Reeling his fist in, he focused all his energy before the constantly elevating skyscraper of brown rock. The punch sent a huge fault throughout the pillar, and sent it dispersed into many pebbles and cobbles throughout the air, still raining upward towards Rick.

The blonde crossed his arms and sent the circular waves pulsing throughout his body again. He held himself close; he watched the reversed-direction rain shoot closer to him. The rocks that would've hit him were deflected by sudden electrical sparks and pulses of literal, material shock.

"Huh?" Mark asked from confusion as Rick came back down from midair. Mark prepared himself for anything else amazing that the Minor might pull. "How'd you do that?" he asked.

Still plunging downward, seemingly slowly, Rick decided to spill the secret early to give a fair training advantage to his fellow Minor. "Distortion of nearby material using nerves from my own body and electrical currents of the half-spirit energy, creating a mixing and mashing of magnetism for many of the materials, bringing all the ones that make up its hard exterior to the bottom of the rock, and all the soft, fragile ones to the top, where I can break them down with simple attacks that don't waste too much energy," Rick explained in, one could agree on, the longest sentence he had ever spoken.

Rick let out a strained cry as he sent another spark flying to the ground. Mark reacted quickly, noting the motion of hand, the swing of arm. He jumped out of the way, let the spark hit the ground uselessly, without damage. He sighed a breath of relief. But it wasn't over yet. "Like this!" Rick cried out as he brought himself to the floor and skid against the ground; the friction between his slippers and the dirt sent dust spewing into the air. His hands began to glow eerily with an electric yellow palm. This time, a wave of magnetism contracted towards him, pulled from the ends of the horizons and meeting together with Rick as their center. All the surrounding, distant trees moved just a tiny bit closer; the grass blades all tried to huddle up at once, pointing at Rick, accusing him for the disturbance in nature. The early afternoon was now distorted horridly, ruined, maimed by the powers of the Minors and their purpose of "training."

However, they continued on with disregard. Just as everything else had suddenly drawn closer and tilted their position towards Rick, as if he were the object that gave life, as if he were thing that gave birth to everything, Mark did as well, forcefully, straining from the sudden pull of magnetism. He could not have controlled his body for that second, being dragged in towards Rick. Rick, knowing this, prepared himself. Just as he was a second away, Rick launched his ultimate move – the constant blasting of thrusting and arms against Rick's center body, flying sparks all over the place in a parade of blue electricity sparking against his magnetized body.

Meanwhile, Marissa watched from the forest of trees, hiding half of her face so blatantly, as uselessly as she thought it might actually hide her presence from someone as skilled as two Minors, at this level of the game. She seemed sad, dispersed of happiness and all that was known to her as she watched Rick, as well as Mark's pulsing and non-stop confidence. She sighed, letting her hair sway past her face calmly, darkly, secretly. She was caught in her depression, her thought uselessness consuming her into misuse. She felt as if she could do nothing; speak nothing to make a difference. She was completely nonexistent in her mind, like she was constantly absent since birth.

She watched the flying sparks continue and blast around the area, then stop completely as smoke began to pile into the air with a crisp, the sun drenching the land even after the misty clouds of dust and destruction flew about. The pummeling was over. The attack was over. No more pummeling of sparks; no more thrusting of arm. The electricity calmed; lines of leftover blue sparked about the dusting clouds. Cloud surrounded everyone. Yet, Marissa did not lose sight of the two people.

Soon, Mark jumped out of the clouds of smoke. He coughed into his arms, having inhaled the poisonous gas. His skin had peeled into a rocky red texture. He permeated through the first later… Mark noted. He couldn't halt his heavy breathing. "So you had a rocky armor…" Rick gasped, heavily breathing himself.

"I told you I got better," Mark scoffed. "Now I know how to beat you."

"Try it!" Rick answered.

And the tension continued.


	133. Chapter 133

"Try it," Rick provoked once more with a striving smile, a constant smirk. The hot sun blazed above intensely, profusely, _hotly_. Cloudless skies rained after an hour or two's worth of raining. The smell of fresh, wet grass disturbed noses, and pleased others, invigorating them one way or another with their sharp, surefire scent that lingered about from every direction. Trees were tall stalks amongst the embedded, clean sky, their leaves and branches etched always somewhat into the paradise known as above, the haven of reality, the heaven away from home away from home.

Tension stirred into nothingness, swirling into forgotten races. They stood from each other with a fair distance, a perfected measure. Not a breath was taken, for they seemed too dangerous to commit now, living became a sin. Then, it was a climax. With a pulse of energy and suddenly decided readiness, Mark swung his arm once curvedly through the air and out came a huge uproar of ground at his side. It was a small fissure that poured dust and dirt out, spewing all the troubles of hell it had seemed to recuperate from the depths of the world, the core of the land we knew so well, but didn't. The eruption of dust misted the entire area; Rick blasted a spark towards the ground a second too late – Mark had dodged it.

With a magnetic burst of arm, Rick swung at the air once more, emitting a large squealing burst of noise that sent the puffy, engorged and choked clouds of foggy dust into nonexistence, fading them away with certain power. Right away, Rick began to sleuth around for Mark. He was not there; there was nothing suspicious about the ground… where could he be? Rick ticked at his own tongue. Meanwhile, Marissa continued to stare, halfheartedly, no longer really trying to remain hidden anymore, no longer really trying at _all_. Her fingers of grace traced over the bark of the thick tree before her with delicate fingers, a soft, glowing touch that had lost its purpose of use, its meaning of life. She remained standing there, sad, depressed, lost and deprived of her proof of existence. Why did she matter anyway? Was she just a mere shell, hiding away to Sound Half Spirit like treasure, like safekeeping it, guarding it? Was she just… a defense to who anyone would try to break through?

Rick paid no attention to her; he figured she did not have problems. She never did, anyways; it was always he had problems, or, to be more specific, one problem, which she had helped him with and solved a long time ago. Now it was his time to be strong. But even so, he still didn't recognize the answer to the question he had asked Raikettei in the deep, dark halls that always seemed to be lost themselves: "What is the meaning of power?" Words to the lyrics of the song of answers still lost, Rick continued to contemplate it, at the same time using the other half of his mind to pay close attention to the features of the ground, the slight sounds that were made that would soon seem unnatural, or any of the type.

Still a bit blinded from the wisps of leftover dust and smoke, Rick's vermillion eyes peered from right to left, right to left continuously in a non-stop cycle until he found something. But he never did. His search never ended; it continued to continue. Then, suddenly, from the ground burst a body easily recognized, bursting from the surface in just a matter of seconds, inducing shock, surprise, suspicion into people's eyes. Rick began to turn around, a bit too late as Mark, still above the ground with bits and pieces of rock floating with him, reeled in a kick from the side and towards Rick's head.

Rick, reacting quickly, dodged the attack; a swing of air whistled right past him as he prepared himself within seconds during the standby. Mark cried out from the unexpected miss. He brought himself closer now, and blasted a spark to Mark's body while it was still helplessly hovering in the air. The small shock of electricity sent throughout Mark's body and began to make his body shiver in a crisp. Rick wondered what was wrong – could he have done something incorrect, and put Mark's life in danger? He hoped to paradise that he hadn't. The crisp, snapping sound of Mark's body began to continue, with louder bursts of noise, and shorter intervals as well.

Mark's eyes began to freeze in petrifaction, his features completely iced over in fear, or so it seemed. The cracking began to discolor his skin, too, as well as his clothes into a false, stony gray. The place where Rick had tapped Mark's body had grown a fault, and continued to spread throughout the body until it collapsed and fell apart into nothing but a moraine of sediment, a forgotten pile of junk, a drumlin of decoy. It hadn't been the real one after all.

Then, before he knew it, Rick had the ground underneath him rumbling all around. He stammered a bit on his feet as he recovered himself from the last attack. He breathed sharply, a second's bare worth of a breath, and jumped away as his last position erupted right before his eyes and closed in like a tomb, a pyramid of rocky, brown surface. It was Mark who, inevitably hid himself, made the ground rumble beneath every step Rick took and make the ground he stood on crumble and rise and close in on him, creating a kind of prison of rock walls. The "prisons" were fairly large; they collapsed under your feet first to take you by surprise and postpone movement while the ground of a fair radius away from your all rose at once and created a coned ceiling above you, trapping you in darkness and a suffocation waiting to happen. Rick gulped at the thought of getting caught in one.

The blonde jumped expertly away again right after taking a millisecond-time step. The ground erupted there, too. Mark was not letting any chances pass up. Rick continued to dodge the ground, hearing, listening to the constant rumbling and shifting of the earth beneath his feet, for it was no longer his helper anymore, it was no longer neutral. Nature was against him, and he had not enough time to fight back. All he could do was jump and run. He jumped another attack, and another; tens of tombs at random places were around the place, trailing his hurried and dashed footsteps. Then, it happened.

Rick overlooked one, miniscule thing and tripped on, ironically, a rock, and grunted as he looked down to catch the fault in his running. He felt one foot lift from the ground and the other lose its balance dramatically. He scowled, knowing he couldn't make it, and at the same time, the ground plunged beneath his feet, and rose and tumbled around him, trapping him in the rocky pandemonium he had promised himself not to be captured into. His promise was officially broken. He scowled a bit, waited for the fear to pulse away from his body and radiate elsewhere. He gulped from anxiety.

"This won't stop me," he informed Mark, wherever he was. His voice bounced back to him a million times over, vibrating over him, shocking him. He sent a wave of magnetism out at once, tremendously overdoing it due to the fact of the sparse sight he had at the time. Then, he knew he would get out. He began to thrust his arms constantly for a short while, a miniature sort of his ultimate technique. He expected the walls before him to break apart and collapse, and pour in the sunlight from outside like a silent retching. But it didn't happen. The only sunlight that specked on his forehead was the tiny slivers of light that seeped through the slits between pillar rocks that constructed the walls so well.

Why weren't they falling? He couldn't have missed his attacks. So what happened? All was unclear. But he didn't have time to figure it out. Before he could even get a sentence out through thought, a hard punch sent him flying right through the walls of the tomb and sent him outside, just as he wished. His right cheek stung with throbbing pain; he found himself on the ground surrounded by pebbles and broken sediment soon enough. The hot sun pounded on him with burden once again. "What?" he called out.

The tomb began to crash and deconstruct, destructing itself into its own oblivion. As everything crashed and burned, and dust once again spewed into the sky, Mark was left there, standing, watching Rick who, evidently, still on the ground. "You succeeded when you sent the magnetic distortions to the walls of the technique," Mark began. Rick blinked. "But that doesn't mean that they fall apart right away, meaning that you, the user, has to take it down with a simple move. But that's where your weakness is." Rick seemed in shock. "I came from the ground after you sent the magnetic waves, so I wouldn't be affected, while you were in the darkness, and didn't notice my presence. I stood in the direction towards you, though, facing you, and when you used those spark attacks, you hit me and my armor, not the walls of the cave," Mark finished explaining. He brought up his arms; there were patches of red rock stuck together all over – they slowly retracted themselves into normal skin once again. Random places on his face and legs and everywhere did the same, had the same effect. It was one thing they shared.

Rick forced a scoff as he got back up from the ground, dusting his clothes a bit. "You're good," he admit defeat.

"You're better," Mark smiled and cocked his head to the side. And all the while, Marissa watched, and felt like crying. And felt like sobbing her eyes out, dying. She froze in the half-shadow. She watched them forever.

PoVS

About an hour later, the Council and Minors found themselves, once again, in the same room, talking about the same things, discussing the same processes required and what was going to occur next. It was the same old thing with these twenty four significances, always speaking of their task, always sending them off and separating until a week or so later or maybe even a few days, would they come back and just wait, and train for the next task. Sometimes, this process was taxing, tedious, in fact. Sometimes it was worth it, to know that you had accomplished something, or gotten over one of the many problems in your life, where even one made a difference, because one took away additional stress. One took away additional thoughts of whatever one had thought of before. So now, they discussed once more. Now, they talked once more, and the Minors listened. Only one Council spoke. The rest watched after his words, as if they didn't trust them.

"You are to leave this dimension after we have this discussion," Shintenmaru had said. "You are to be assigned into six teams of two, each team sent on an "escort" task of six different individuals in the Outer World. Their families always spawn in the same cities, and others are specifically somewhere else. We will tell you these locations. Once you are clear about everything, you are to leave, again I say, right away. Do you understand?" he looked around the room, watching faces, watching for reactions as if secretively, yet not the least bit slyly.

"Wait," Daniel interrupted. "Why are these six individuals significant?" he asked in a clear voice. "What do we need them for? How do we know we're not just wasting our time looking for them and asking them such a thing as to come with us and change their lives with us just like we did for you?"

"In other words," Dylan began his own rephrasing. "What makes them so special? And why would they so easily agree to us?"

"They won't," Raikettei answered. Eyes began to widen in the room, confused and dazzled. "They don't have to agree with you. They just have to _work_ with you. They have no choice but to come with you, though. It is not an obligation, or privilege, it is a requirement, a _command_," he explained.

"So, then, why them specifically?" Daniel stepped up.

"Because," Shintenmaru took the gold. He took a careful look at all the Minors, then all the Councils. His teammates nodded to him in permissiveness. "All right, when we were infused with our powers as a result of White Cloak sealing the twelve original 'Free Spirits' into us randomly, he tried looking for us and absorbing us for our power, because his goal _back then_ was to conquer worlds, correct? You all know this story?"

Minors nodded, looked at each other to have reassurance. "However, the power of the Free Spirits was overwhelming; we could not possibly control it at our age. So as a result, we could not defend ourselves if White Cloak was to come to us; we'd have to surrender." Shitnenmaru seemed to cough a bit, uneasily before continuing. "However, there was this… _organization_, I guess you could call it, that respected life's creations, like the Free Spirits themselves, and protected us from White Cloak," Shintenmaru went on to say. Slowly, things were beginning to piece together. "After things happened and time went on, they had decided to create six different families, six divisions of power that were to 'guard' us whenever they weren't around, or when they, in case, died."

Everyone was following along so far, which was great. Shintenmaru could see the anxiousness in their young eyes. He continued. "These six families, each giving birth to at least one child every generation as a requirement, which isn't hard to fulfill, had powers of their own. The reason for this requirement is so that just in case we, the Council, or you, in this matter, the Minors, are in trouble, we could call upon the latest generation 'Guardians' for their assistance. Another requirement of theirs is to leave on request."

"But do we really need them now? Are we really doing that bad that we need help?" Daniel asked, crossing his arms before him. He gave a low scowl, as if unhappy with what he was hearing. His glasses seemed stiff; his posture seemed a bit stressed.

"It's not that you guys aren't doing a well job at whatever we ask you to do," Tsukansu began to explain calmly with a cooling smile. "But, it's just that, White Cloak has gotten stronger – much stronger than we had realized over the five centuries apart. We'd thought he had completely given up and, well, died out from old age. But apparently, that is false, as you know, and has the power to rip all of you apart whenever he feels like it, and maybe even us now. We just need the Guardians to boost our potential and chances of succeeding in a worst-case-scenario of fighting with White Cloak with all twenty-four of us, and with the Guardians, thirty."

"What about Jeremy? Doesn't he have some _mysterious_ power that we still don't even know about yet?" Teresa asked out of the blue. Her face seemed so innocent, so unknowing. If only she did know. She would have remained silent. Dylan looked to the ground; Lance was at his side, clearing his throat out of discomfort. Teresa wondered what was wrong, due to the sparseness of an answer to her question. "I'm just saying, shouldn't we count him? We haven't forgotten about him, right?"

Tsukansu cleared his throat uneasily. "Right, absolutely," he said sympathetically. Teresa seemed uneasy. There was a moment of eerie, suspicious silence.

"Okay, so what happens after we get them here?" Kenneth asked out of the blue to break the silence. Things immediately returned to normal, strangely. Tension was broken into conformity.

"We'll see their levels of power and growth. If it is sufficient, we'll just have to see where it goes from there. And if we can, we'll improve them, if possible, of course," Shintenmaru explained almost immediately, almost tensely and uncomfortably. Memories faded into his mind, unwanted memories. It was the same for the rest of the Council. They couldn't help but feel a strong wave of guilt wash over them, even if they were not directly related to what had happened…back then.

"Aside from that," Tsukansu cleared his throat, trying to defy his feelings. He could sense the tension building up again after a small second of silence, a small second that had seemed to elongate in a stuffed second of eternity. "The teams will be consisting of the following: Dylan and Zack, Derek and Kenneth, Teresa and Lance, Eric and Walter, Rick and Mark, and Daniel and Marissa." Marissa gasped sharply. Daniel raised a brow a bit in curiosity.

The girl turned to Rick, who had no eyes on her. She wondered. Would I be able to survive… without Rick? She wondered about it more. "Hold on, wait a minute," Derek called out. "Eric's not here. We can't leave right away without him," he muttered calmly, a bit crossly, too. Derek folded his arms together toughly to take more of a stand; his eyes narrowed a bit, just a hint of intimidating. However, he couldn't express how happy he was that he wasn't in the same team as _Zachary_. It was funny to call him by his real name.

The Council looked around; the Minors looked around. They were right. Eric was nowhere in sight. Was he still recovering? "It's true; he isn't here," Shintenmaru acknowledged. "I suppose you guys will have to go without him; he can absolutely waste no time at all – and I know you want to argue it, but this decision is not open for discussion."

Minors scowled. "Yes, it is," Daniel begged to differ. "Anything is open for discussion – you can't make anything not open for discussion; you're just trying to get the upper hand," he scorned through ground teeth. "And you can't just leave behind Eric like that; he's an important member of the Minors, not to mention that he's one of the six strongest in here, that excludes even me!"

"My brother's right," Kenneth argued. "We can't leave someone like Eric behind! We're nothing without him." Many nodded.

"Despite him not being in my team, I'd still like Eric to go; you're not giving him a chance!" Teresa argued. "And because since Eric's not going, I'm deciding not to leave, either," she growled rather irrationally. Shintenmaru seemed uneasy standing in that big, empty room. He gulped from nervousness. Would he win over this time? "How about it, then?"

"Shintenmaru," Derek muttered with crossed arms and stressed features. "If you don't get Eric to go, we're going to have some problems," Derek growled from ground teeth and threatening eyes. Was that a bit of coyness just now from Shintenmaru? The Council could barely talk, and soon, all the Minors were complaining, protesting for Eric's right to go. They would not leave without him, just like Teresa had said.

"Boy, they really love this guy, huh?" Zack asked himself as he brought a hand to scratch the back of his head. He sighed. "How come they don't love me as much??" he complained adorably, cutely.

"'Cause," Derek began with closed eyes, looking all insightful and ready to insult. "Why do you think? You act like a childish idiot all the time. You don't do anything that's important," he remarked.

"That's not true! I do a lot of things!" Zack called out with expanded features.

"Oh yeah?" Derek provoked, getting in the boy's face, growling at him, both boys nose to nose now hissing at each other that they could feel each other's breath on their necks. "Like what?" Zack couldn't think of anything. Derek, the spiky-headed Shadow Minor won over once again. Voices began to ring out once again and fill the room confusedly, mixed words and sentences confining themselves into each tiny little vowel and each miniscule consonant that sounded themselves out into a mixed syllable of twisted meaning, voices echoing off each other, bouncing hyperactively together throughout the room in vibration. Then, invisibly, it was as if a small smile spread upon Tsukansu's face.

"Stop!" a voice rang from the hall. The voices stopped. Eyes peered to the left, to look, to watch. The Council did the same; it had been one of them. The twenty-two sets of eyes found Hanabikai, standing at the threshold of the hallway. He had been missing, too, and no one had noticed. They felt a bit guilty, now standing before him. Hanabikai had a tough, gruff face over him. Half his body remained eroded at the side panel of the threshold; the hall was wider than the door itself. Much wider. Then, soon, Hanabikai's expression changed from grim to happy, smiling brightly with those perfect white teeth of his. "You guys don't need to yell and scream all the time, you know? You're teens; you got a long way ahead of you." Some scowled. Hanabikai chuckled. "And so does this guy," he moved closer towards the door to reveal the other half of him, which carried Eric in his arms, the boy's almost fully recovered state needing only the slightest help from the Council beside him. Eric's arm was wrapped around Hanabikai's shoulder for a bit of assistance. Eric to the Minors, and, being the always tough, serious person he was, he smiled, and for once, wasn't that protective about showing his emotions.

"You guys want Eric?" Hanabikai stared into the crowd of Minors watching. "Well then, I've got one thing to tell you all." Everyone stared at him; Hanabikai made sure everyone, _everyone_ was paying attention. Hanabikai took a deep breath before speaking the last words: "You guys are going with him!" he shouted. And there were cheers.


End file.
